" "More blood! more blood!" cried Trenchard, passing his hand with agony across his brow. “Guineas, of course,” Mr. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. ’ She inclined her head, looking up at him through her lashes, and passing a tongue lightly over her lips. If I did not love you en désespoir, I would assuredly blow off your head. You forget all the mass of training and tradition and instinct that go to make him a tolerable master. “I cannot reason with you,” he said at last wearily. ‘I have only borrowed it. “See you to-night, I suppose?” He sauntered off. This—this shatters a world!” She tried to feel sorry, but her sense of his immense egotism was strong and clear. 102 When he took her out, he was proud of her. "What is this?" she wanted to know. ’ ‘Ah, that was an affair altogether different,’ she explained and fluttered her long lashes at him. Miss Moffatt, the history and moral instruction mistress, was particularly explicit upon this score, and they all agreed in indicating contempt and pity for girls whose minds ran on such matters, and who betrayed it in their conversation or dress or bearing.
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