“You must come home to him at once,” said Miss Stanley. One of the shutters was a trifle damaged, letting in added light. “How old are you?\" He looked at her engagingly. Rather! Who could help it?” He towered up over her and smiled down at her in his fatherly way. ‘You are not the only one to seek them out,’ he said. I can remove the prisoner at any hour of the night I think fit: and I will remove him. Stanley poured wine. A slender young man, wearing glasses, appeared from the shadow of the nearest van. Supposing he too wanted love and his arms were as empty as hers? Some living thing that depended upon her. It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. Miss Stanley hesitated, and took first one and then another of the constituents of this costume off its peg and surveyed it. Wood lifted up his hands in mute despair.
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