” “I have been through dozens of foster parents, John. I wonder whether you would mind, Lady Ferringhall,” he went on, with a sudden glance at her, “if I tell you that you yourself remind me a great deal more of what she was like then, except of course that your complexion and colouring are altogether different. He addressed her by that title, and something in the tone disturbed her. ‘I said you were sympathique,’ she told him. "Hurrah!" shouted he, waving his hat triumphantly over his head. Try your luck with Jarvis Remenham—if you will. “Do you mean, aunt,” she asked, “that my father thought I had gone off—with some man?” “What else COULD he think? Would any one DREAM you would be so mad as to go off alone?” “After—after what had happened the night before?” “Oh, why raise up old scores? If you could see him this morning, his poor face as white as a sheet and all cut about with shaving! He was for coming up by the very first train and looking for you, but I said to him, ‘Wait for the letters,’ and there, sure enough, was yours. She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt. She perceived she had never really thought of any one but herself in all her acts and plans.
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