Certainly you have a reason. Gwen made an inquiry, and, directed by Mrs. " "I must now go and look after Thames," observed the carpenter. Side by side with the cheese (its never-failing accompaniment, in all seasons, at the carpenter's board) came a tankard of swig, and a toast. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws. They had got all this down already—they heard the substance of it now for the fourteenth time. She should leave sooner, but she just could not bear missing the event. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance.
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