‘Do you think I do not know? What am I doing here, do you think?’ ‘That’s just exactly what I’ve been asking myself,’ he returned. I must go to-night, or I shall never behold him again. There was a sharp knocking at the outside door. I shall still wear your favor—even if it is a stolen and forbidden favor—in my casque. “Well, what is it?” “Montague Hill is recovering consciousness,” he said. The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. He became primitive, literal in his conception; the ramifications were, for the nonce, fairly relegated to limbo. "I wish to overtake Lady Trafford.
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