She hid behind a mirage of piety, just as I do. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present some irresistible project. ] "So much the better. ” “You are not a coward,” she repeated, “or you would not be my friend.
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