” “Afraid!” “Yes. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. It is not for myself I fear. All other things were without weight or consequence before the fact that this poor young man would have to depend upon her for his life. He had made it even easier by walking up the steps instead of taking the elevator. The windows of these rooms were obscured with draperies, their floors a carpet patchwork; the china ornaments on their mantels were of a class apart. Almost instantly she had recognized the fallacy of such a statement. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. ‘C’est à dire, I would say from my father only comes the English. Good-looking girl. ‘It is seldom enough I am visited by anyone at all, let alone a personable young redcoat. Why did he imagine she was making this journey to England? She feigned interest.
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