For the present, he murmured his farewells, and turning, caught Hilary’s eye and walked away, crossing the ballroom to move into the less opulent, and less crowded, saloon next door where servants were dispensing refreshments. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. As for Mike’s observations on John’s desires to get laid, it was the pot calling the kettle black. From long experience with both races he had acquired definitions, but none snugly applied to this girl. What is the supreme idea in the heart and mind of youth? To win fame and fortune: and particularly to enjoy them.
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