They were standing face to face now upon the hearthrug. And this great mellow place, this London, now was hers, to struggle with, to go where she pleased in, to overcome and live in. 207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. "Oh, I've read that!" Spurlock had heard distinctly enough all of this odd conversation; but until the spinster's reference to the family album, no phrase had been sufficient in strength of attraction to break the trend of his own unhappy thoughts. “For Heaven’s sake, Dunster, don’t let her out of the carriage, or hansom, or whatever she came in. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. I wonder if some of them did—and it didn’t get reported.
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