For her mother to betray her seemed inevitable, but the betrayal seemed worse than her fate. "I could almost forgive the wretch the injury he did me in depriving me of my poor dear wife—No, not quite that," he added, a little confused. It was as if she had grown right past her father into something older and of infinitely wider outlook, as if he had always been unsuspectedly a flattened figure, and now she had discovered him from the other side. Two hours had come and gone during this tantalizing occupation. "I can," replied Trenchard. She used to play violin, you know. Easy enough to look as if one rides away. I don’t want to stop your singing.
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