“Why destroy me, child? There are so many secrets I 231 could tell you. ” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. ’ Miss Froxfield regarded him in some interest. “Are you a special sort of clergyman,” she said, after a pause, and looking down her nose at him, “or do you go to the Universities?” “Oh!” he said, profoundly. She drank and drank until his body was a lifeless husk, as light as a mannequin, virtually hollow of all but the fluid in his bones. His advice was mostly practical. But I liked to say it. ’ ‘Unfair!’ echoed his junior. "Shir Rowland Trenchard's affair— eh?" "That's it," rejoined Jonathan; "I expect him here every minute.
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