“Loneliness,” she said, “is a luxury which I never permit myself. CHAPTER XV. Very likely you will disapprove highly of what I have done—I wonder? You may, perhaps, think I have done it just in a fit of childish petulance because my father locked me in when I wanted to go to a ball of which he did not approve. I have it about me. Shouldn't you be getting home?\" \"It's not far. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. But for a long time, anyhow, we lovers have to be as if we were no more than friends.
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