For a moment her thoughts led her back to the evening when she and Courtlaw had stood together before the window of her studio in Paris, before the coming of Sir John had made so many changes in her life. ‘Very wise,’ he commented, slightly relaxing his arm. She recognized the cloth at once, waylaid him, and with that directness of speech particularly hers she explained what she wanted. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. " Not many days after this event, on a bright October morning, the bells rang a merry peal from the old gray tower of Willesden church. A slow anger burned in the man. As she had dreaded, the police officer in the car was politely waiting for John to depart, and exited the squad as soon as John turned at the Pine Crest stop sign.
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