I believed that she was my wife, or she would have been safe from me. This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy. Miss Moffatt, the history and moral instruction mistress, was particularly explicit upon this score, and they all agreed in indicating contempt and pity for girls whose minds ran on such matters, and who betrayed it in their conversation or dress or bearing. She set her fingers in the hair and tugged, drawing him to a sitting posture and stooping so that her eyes would be on the level with his when he awoke. How she learned of her heritage I do not know, but you need not imagine that it is greed that drives her.
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