She had found that proof. Somebody to depend upon her; somebody to have need of her, if only for a little while. The lady reseated herself, watching him expectantly. . ‘Because,’ said Lady Bicknacre in the confidential manner of all matrons when passing on a tidbit of scandal, ‘Nicholas married against his father’s wishes and ran away. All emotions laid hold of him, but none could he stay long enough to analyze it. The washerwoman reported that she had seen a man one day riding out for an early morning hunt, but was unsure of his identity. He hung round those broad waters from noon until three and realized that he had embarked upon a wild-goose chase. She kissed him on the bridge of his nose. "I suppose I was mistaken," returned Gay. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. “That is as you will,” she said. .
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