She had changed into dungarees herself and kept her hair as it was. 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. “I remember when you walked me home. She had a few acquaintances, English gentlemen, but she lived with her sister—was a lady. She must not show anything. If hopeless love for her made me a robber, it has also saved me many a crime.
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