I wonder if you will mind very much when I tell you they were suggested by you. “Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink. “You didn’t expect that I should kiss you?” “How was I to know that a man would—would think it was possible—when there was nothing—no love?” “How did I know there wasn’t love?” That silenced her for a moment. Still, something had marked the face, something had left an indelible touch. “Annabel,” she said, “I have never asked you for your confidence. The Morning Post was hungry for governesses and nursery governesses, but held out no other hopes; the Daily Telegraph that morning seemed eager only for skirt hands.
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