” “Why not?” “Free woman—and equal. He tried to raise an outcry, but his throat was again forcibly griped by Rowland. Her sensitive ears could hear her foster mother snoring in front of the television. He began to think of speeches, very firm, explicit speeches, he would make. . . ” She put her wrists upon his shoulders, feeling him surge with the pride of his own masculinity as she touched him. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. “Well!” she declared good-humouredly. He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. In any case, there was no doing anything on a Sunday and Brewis Charvill, his main quarry, had gone out of town unexpectedly. Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as preoccupied with them. " "Norris!" gasped Lady Trafford, trembling violently. "What?—help take care of him? Why, you can't do that, Miss Enschede!" was the protest.
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