Brendon was silent. She lit the cigarette with a tiny Kelly green drugstore lighter. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. It throws out a number of broad experimental generalizations, and then sets out to bring into harmony or relation with these an infinitely multifarious collection of phenomena. I have found you. We'll have him yet. —Providence, I mean—HAS arranged it so that men will keep you, more or less.
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