She had to do her thinking at home—under inspection. She softened her tone and scrambled for the right words. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night. ‘You don’t mind if I sit down?’ She considered him a moment, her head a little on one side. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. I will do anything and everything I can to become your equal. “Leave them!” He yelled. It is to set me right with Winifred. “I don’t mind, of course, your seeing her sometimes, still there are differences— differences in social atmospheres. She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least. The service had not proceeded far, when she was greatly disturbed by the entrance of a person who placed himself opposite her, and sought to attract her attention by a number of little arts, surveying her, as he did so, with a very impudent and offensive stare.
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