He looked half at her and half at the sky. He continued alternately to be tossed in the air, or rolled in the kennel until he was borne out of sight. Its cavernous expanses equaled the upstairs of the house. Looking sullen, he released the handle and sat back. His long struggle with himself, his avoidance of her were quite unnecessary. “I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house. “Then you—you will?” A long pause. “Further than that, I am amazed that you should dare to allude to those few moments, to that single moment of folly.
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