’ He scratched his chin as if he thought about it, but covertly kept a careful study of what he could see of her face. Prudence? Mr Remenham’s sister that was. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. Now," he added, as his commands were reluctantly obeyed, "help me on with them. “It’s funny, the way a good house feels. “It is your sister and her husband,” he said. —Strype's Stow.
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