" "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. “Where am I?” he muttered. Just. ’ ‘Entirely English,’ said Gerald as one making a discovery. These joyful bounds just lace into the stuff of my memories and stay there forever. ‘If you had met her, you’d understand. It was a great relief to arrive at last at that pause when she could say to her aunt, “Now, dear?” and rise and hold back the curtain through the archway. “Thank you. “What is the good of talking?” said her brother. Forgive me?” She pleaded. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. It is just the aim I have had in view all the time.
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