"You think our sex has no feeling, I suppose, Sir," cried Mrs. Pramlay received them in the pretty chintz drawing-room, which opened by French windows on the trim garden, with its croquet lawn, its tennis-net in the middle distance, and its remote rose alley lined with smart dahlias and flaming sunflowers. Tender with the sick, firm with the strong, fearless, with a body that had the resistance of iron, there was nothing of the hypocrite in him. It has become a part of the order of my life. She pointed suddenly at the portrait. “We are Mr. “I thought I saw her in town to-day,” he said. It distressed and confused her that the girl should not come to her.
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