And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her. She got into rows through meddling with their shoes and tennis-rackets, and had moments of carefully concealed admiration when she was privileged to see them just before her bedtime, rather radiantly dressed in white or pink or amber and prepared to go out with her mother. The Disguise 261 VI. The likelihood is that I shan’t see the wench again. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. " "Well, for my part," observed Mrs. ‘She is constantly thinking of you,’ I said. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.
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