She hesitated. A kind but hard looking female officer named Rose took her into a room and sat her down at a small wooden table. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. Drawing his hanger he rode amongst the crowd, trampled upon those most in advance, and made an attempt to seize their leader, in whom he recognised Blueskin. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul. "But I can guess what it's for.
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