" CHAPTER XX To Spurlock it seemed as if a great iron door had swung in behind him, shutting out the old world. She is Bohemian to the fingertips. But I can't consent to the course you would pursue—at least, not till I've given it due consideration. All through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object. There was nothing in his manner to suggest the misery of the preceding night. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. Then making a pretence of stooping to rearrange her flowing train, she glanced at Anna, and half stopped in her progress down the room. He even hugged her a few times, something he had never done. She felt draggled and insulted beyond redemption. This is a mere boy.
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