Brendon,” he said, “may I rob you of your guest just for the drive home? I have only a few hours in England, and Miss Pellissier is an old friend. I trust that she will not misunderstand me. I have always been lonely. Probably some woman on the loose; they were as thick as flies over here—dizzy blondes. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. Austin, who had been evidently schooled by Wild, maintained a profound silence on this head. The old aspect of the place was gone. I’m six hundred and forty-eight years old, John! I should have never seduced a young boy, let alone expected him to keep my secrets for me. He was continually dramatizing the future, anticipating the singular role he had elected to play.
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