She ignored his question. 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. With a moment of inward shame he remembered his deportment towards Anna. C. Courtlaw’s—I should like to oblige Mr. Other phrases returned now, like echoes. He was well mounted, as was his companion; and had pistols in his holsters, and a hanger at his girdle. , like to forget all about it—even their names. But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague.
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