With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. The young fellow was almost as odd in his way as the girl was in hers. But she did not bother her head very much about her relations with these sympathizers. “Difficulties indeed. He kissed her at the door. These were so outside her experience that she found it possible to thrust them almost out of sight by saying they would be “all right” in confident tones to herself. Below was an uninspiring street, a thoroughfare of boarding-houses and apartments. Only how had they missed him? Were they imbecile? Or perhaps the mists had concealed him from them. “A silly little priestess who knew nothing of life at all until she came to you. “Dear John,” she whispered. A good woman’s mind has angels with flaming swords at the portals to keep out fallen thoughts.
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