With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. Women never throw themselves into each other's arms; they calculate the distance and the damage perfectly. Hastening to the spot where he had tied his horse to a tree, he vaulted into the saddle, and rode off across the fields,—for he was fearful of encountering the hostile party,—till he reached the Edgeware Road. Capes kept obstinately stiff, and spoke between his teeth. But where in the world was the girl? A door led to another chamber beyond. The relationship seemed to have almost as much to do with blood and body as a mortgage.
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