“My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. Perhaps Ferringhall has pensioned her off. His pride, however, would not suffer him to interfere with their proceedings; much less could he bring himself to acknowledge that he had been in the wrong, and entreat Lady Trafford to remain, though he was well aware that her life might be endangered if she travelled by night. If I told you the facts, I expect, since you are in love with me, you’d explain the whole business as being very fine and honorable for me—the Higher Morality, or something of that sort. The sidewalk resonated with the pounding of cold rain by the time she left the building. “I love some one else. ” “You, then,” he said, “are ‘Alcide. She hated to leave; for this hour would be the most interesting. ‘Imbecile.
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