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CHAPTER VIII. For all that she was of exceptional intellectual enterprise, she had never yet considered these things with unaverted eyes. Odd, but he had never thought of the beach until this girl (who looked as if she had stepped out of the family album) referred to it with a familiarity which was as astonishing as it was profoundly sad. Then they dressed her in a dirty dress of coarse serge and a cap, and took away her own clothes. Her impressions of this cardinal ceremony were rich and confused, complicated by a quite transitory passion that awakened no reciprocal fire for a fat curly headed cousin in black velveteen and a lace collar, who assisted as a page. This girl whom he had met by chance and befriended had done both. I’m that shamed to confess it, miss, but it were then I thought of Martha. All in a moment. She would never return to her father; that resolution was final.
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