No wonder that Trenchard, as he gazed at this fearful being, should have some misgivings cross him. If he took a fancy to you, he invited you to the house for tea, bitter and yellow and served in little cups without handles. "What a wonderful colour!" she exclaimed. She thought of her father in the garden, and of her aunt with her Patience, as she had seen them—how many ages was it ago? Just one day intervened. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.
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