They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times. “You have put all your life in my hands,” he declared. She sought hastily in her mind for a plausible answer to an obvious question that didn’t come. Something forbade him to draw her toward him and seal the compact with a kiss. “‘A SONG OF LADIES AND MY LADY “‘Saintly white and a lily is Mary, Margaret’s violets, sweet and shy; Green and dewy is Nellie-bud fairy, Forget-me-nots live in Gwendolen’s eye. Queer world.
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