“You have succeeded a little too well in your personation,” she said bitterly, “to get rid very easily of Mr. ” “I may have to run,” said her father, with an appeal to his watch. ” She said to him as they walked past houses down the block. Then she looked up at Brendon. She was aware of people—her aunt, her father, her fellow-students, friends, and neighbors— moving about outside this glowing secret, very much as an actor is aware of the dim audience beyond the barrier of the footlights. But underneath this tolerance there is always the vague hope that your manhood will someday reassert itself. For her mother to betray her seemed inevitable, but the betrayal seemed worse than her fate. More strange stories were told of it than of any other house in London. There is something inconglomerate about us. . “It will spoil your life.
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