He had heard me sing—the fool thought himself in love with me. " "What's the meaning of all this?" demanded Sir Cecil. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. Mounting the door he had last opened, he placed his hands on the wall above, and quickly drew himself up. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. Habits and tastes are no longer the same. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. From this spot a road, more resembling the drive through a park than a public thoroughfare, led him gradually to the brow of Dollis Hill. Miss Mary and me, and Martha too sometimes. I am far too much the gentleman.
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