‘Lover’s tiff indeed. My trouble is with your sister. A vague desire to justify himself ruffled her father. The mere fact that he was there in the train alongside her, helping her, sitting opposite to her in the dining-car, presently sleeping on a seat within a yard of her, made her heart sing until she was afraid their fellow passengers would hear it. “I have a letter for him from his brother, which I was just leaving. "How long will he be laid up?" "Three or four weeks, if he doesn't peg out during the night. "You are no longer Thames Darrell," she said, casting her eyes rapidly over it; "but the Marquis de Chatillon. But she disapproved more and more of her own mental austerity. There’s always friction, conflict, unwilling concessions. It was a different world.
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