She had only to get through this, to solace Manning as much as she could, to put such clumsy plasterings on his wounds as were possible, and then, anyhow, she would be free—free to put her fate to the test. . . She was chaffing him about being taken for Meysey Hill, and suggested that he should be presented to me as the millionaire. She said it audibly, having learned long since that an audible prayer was a concentrated one. Find your man, that’s the rule. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. Would she ever find it? Sighing, she opened the door to the next room, and drew back the drapes.
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