So I come round the other way and—Lordy, miss, I’m that sorry I made a mull of it. “And to think that it’s not a full year ago since I was a black-hearted rebel school-girl, distressed, puzzled, perplexed, not understanding that this great force of love was bursting its way through me! All those nameless discontents—they were no more than love’s birth-pangs. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. At first she thought he was endeavouring to rid himself of the fleas, but after a time she came to understand that the muck had healing qualities and soothed the burning scratches made by his claws. But how to avail himself of it was the question, for in his present garb he was sure to be recognised. Now let us forget it. " "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell.
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