25 <4> THE ARRIVAL OF THE BLACK DEATH He loved her many times, especially in the first month. He daren't quarrel with me: and if he does, let him look to himself. "Where are you going?" she asked. “And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better. It is easy enough to sing these little chansons in an original way—it requires a very different sort of ability to succeed on the stage. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. 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. The wall of St. Last night there had been no time. ” They passed out on to the pavement, and the commissionaire called a hansom.
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