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Look out, it’s coming. She knew that to expect more now was like anticipating a gold-mine in the garden. Nothing more forlorn could be conceived. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. If the boy was legging it alone…. Just as he was about to drain it, he encountered the basilisk glance of Jonathan Wild, and paused. ” She was frightened—his anger always did frighten her—and in her resolve to conceal her fright she carried a queen-like dignity to what she felt even at the time was a preposterous pitch.
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