There it was—to be borrowed. Her interest grew as she read, a certain distaste disappeared. He declined supper, but took wine. She was surprised to find how stored her mind was with impressions and memories of him, how vividly she remembered his gestures and little things that he had said. “Be so good as to stand away from that door at once, sir,” Brendon ordered. She thought of her father in the garden, and of her aunt with her Patience, as she had seen them—how many ages was it ago? Just one day intervened. The conversation which her entrance had interrupted began to buzz again all around her.
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