“I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house. But a man is a mixed creature. Sir John filled his glass with trembling hand. But for a long time, anyhow, we lovers have to be as if we were no more than friends. My husband, he is cruel and wicked, and—and entirely undistinguished. ” Brendon leaned over confidentially. “Ugh!” she said. “Vee,” she said, “come home. She could tell that he was furious in that instant. There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer.
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