Your aunt liked the pheasant. She had a few acquaintances, English gentlemen, but she lived with her sister—was a lady. She was trying by some wonderful, secret, and motionless gymnastics to restrain her tears. Very slowly emerging out of a phase of stupefaction, these personal affairs and her personal problem resumed possession of her mind. CHAPTER II. “So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked. '—'It's not to be thought of,' says I, thumping the table till every glass on it jingled; 'and I know a way as'll prevent it. My dear—I can call you that here, anyhow—I know that. She found herself alone in the train asking herself what she must do next, and trying not to think of herself as cut off from home or any refuge whatever from the world she had resolved to face.
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