Her momentary instinct was to run to him and be comforted, like the old times. To—to find myself. My mother shall never degrade herself by a connection with you. She caught her breath, and her eyes were lit with a sudden terror. ‘Sir?’ enquired the lad. All the same, I wish I had that fellow by the throat! Just the virile, unregenerate man in me wishes that. Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering, perhaps a trifle laboriously. “You asked me in to tea,” he protested. I would be too 222 busy protecting you.
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