Martha was quite right. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. I don’t know what has come over me. “It is very, very difficult,” she continued, looking steadfastly at the ground. I was a novelty. She had mentioned the address where she and her sister had lived. I knew where I would go next: Florence. “If you interfere between us,” the man said, “it will go hardly with you. You couldn’t help it. .
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