"The doctor and I agreed to give you a chance—for her sake. You are a girl with very little. Mary Remenham had passed on her every feature to the daughter whose advent had taken her from this world. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. People had started filling the hall: instrumentalists, overly conscientious parents. Dieu du ciel! Gerald was kissing her! She struggled to be free, and the arms that held her loosened, the lips leaving hers. "Well, well, we'll say no more about it," replied Wood; "and, by way of changing the subject, let me advise you on no account to fly to strong waters for consolation, Joan. But, perhaps, you'll first accompany me to my dwelling for a moment, that we may arrange our accounts before we start. Sheppard from his elevated position.
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