’ What would you tell her?” “If she asked advice, I should say she wasn’t fit to do anything of the sort. “I suppose, daddy, you’ve no objection to my going on with my work at the Imperial College?” she asked. And I passed myself off as Meysey Hill, and since—then—I haven’t had a minute’s peace. And here she was—in a mess because it had been impossible for her to avoid leaning upon another man. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ agreed Gerald with a grin. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. Kneebone, Mrs.
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