But she had not reckoned with the etiquette of Canongate. Then a servant girl brought in a telegram. \"Carry your books for you?\" He asked. It occurred to her that it was absurd and wrong to be so continuously thinking of one engrossing topic, and she made a strenuous effort to force her mind to other questions. I sang to him, and he was satisfied. He blushed, too, spiritually, as it were. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. ‘Then I am not mad in the least. “I SAY!” said Mr. ‘I thought as how it couldn’t do no harm, and as it turns out, it done me a bit of good. She can be of use to me yet. Amiable and good-looking.
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