Brendon and Courtlaw who had been watching for her, met her at the door. “Then why the devil,” he demanded, “do you let me stand you dinners and the opera—and why do you come to a cabinet particuliar with me?” He became radiant with anger. Abruptly, Gerald turned. Under the circumstances you must permit me to be the best judge of the identity of the young lady who did me the honour, as an old family friend, of dining with me. She dreaded living off the land again, like an animal, as she had done for dozens of years at a stretch. The spinsters were not kind; they were only curious because she was odd and wore a dress thirty years out of date. “I confess it. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. It was from Brendon.
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