She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. " "My mind's made up," rejoined Jack, coldly,—"we part to-night. Oh! I'm in such a fluster!" Upon which, she snatched up her fan, cast a look into the glass, smoothed down her scarf, threw a soft expression into her features, and led the way into the next room, whither she was followed by her daughter and Thames Darrell. I shall still wear your favor—even if it is a stolen and forbidden favor—in my casque. "I told you that before," rejoined Wood, testily. Those were dreams. Not daring, however, to listen to it, he ran on.
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