It was the end, she told herself, fiercely. She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. ‘Or do I arrest you and have these soldiers march you off to gaol?’ A sweep of his arm indicated the array of military strength on the benches, every eye of which was trained on the little scene being enacted before them. \"Let's get out of here. Nothing like the direct approach, she thought. . It is a lovely little appendage to the mother who smiles over it, and it does things quaintly like her, gestures with her very gestures.
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