Manning loved her presented itself to her bloodlessly, stilled from any imaginative quiver or thrill of passion or disgust. I do not blame you for the act. She read on and on, now thrilled by the swiftly moving drama, now enraptured by the tender passages of love. "Curse him!" muttered Abraham. She got into rows through meddling with their shoes and tennis-rackets, and had moments of carefully concealed admiration when she was privileged to see them just before her bedtime, rather radiantly dressed in white or pink or amber and prepared to go out with her mother. At length, I shall ascertain my name. His manner, however, was as stern and haughty as ever, and his glances retained their accustomed fire. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear.
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