She recoiled. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. He seemed to know a great deal about life. For a short time they allowed me to share the warmth of their lives. But it was only when that damned scoundrel nearly spitted you in the chapel—’ He broke off and, to her intense satisfaction she saw he was not as much in command of himself as he would have her believe. For a long time she surveyed a row of towering holly-hocks, as though they offered an explanation. The distinction lay chiefly in the right to pat their heads.
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