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To his relief, she nodded. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. It was difficult to get right. Of course, it really signified nothing in this careless part of the world that she was travelling alone. “So it’s like you’re a dead end?” He asked innocently. One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms.
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