’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. ‘A devil is just what you are. But I can't consent to the course you would pursue—at least, not till I've given it due consideration. Even the love of a mother does not sway him. Manning?” said her aunt. ” “But what did father imagine?” “Of course he imagined! Any one would! ‘What has happened, Peter?’ I asked.
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