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The pause lengthened, and he had the satisfaction of seeing despair melt the set mockery of Spurlock's mouth. She seemed just as stiff and shy as a girl ought to be, Lady Palsworthy thought, neither garrulous nor unready, and free from nearly all the heavy aggressiveness, the overgrown, overblown quality, the egotism and want of consideration of the typical modern girl. It occurred to Ann Veronica once that she had known him when he was younger, but day had followed day, and each had largely obliterated the impression of its predecessor. “My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent. “Go on!” “You know—in Paris they coupled my name with some one’s—an Englishman’s. The Procession to Tyburn 462 XXXII.
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