Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return. "I'll see him fettered myself. " "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. Their idea of maidenly innocence was just a blank white—the sort of flat white that doesn’t shine. Now keep still. After what seemed like an eternity he turned right onto a dirt road that ended unceremoniously at a copse of leafless trees. And they never talked of anything at all, never discussed, never even encouraged gossip. She padded up the stairs to the bedroom, finding that her sheets had been changed with a fresh pillow case to welcome her weary head. .
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