For a time she promenaded the room. The danger or difficulty of an exploit never appalled him. She began to draw on her gloves thoughtfully. " "That is very kind of you," she acknowledged. She had never felt so acutely the desire for free initiative, for a life unhampered by others. She hated being angry, the uselessness of it all, the frustration. " "Pish!" cried Jack: "I don't value his anger a straw. —What do you know of Thames?— Where is he?" "Don't agitate yourself, dearest girl," rejoined the woollen-draper; "or I shall never be able to commence my relation. " "Anything like that?" "Yes; but the colour is lavender.
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