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‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. If you don’t eat humble-pie now you may live to fare worse later. She fluttered it with a trembling hand, averting her eyes from his, and he could hear her uneven breath behind it. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. “Come in here a moment, will you, Blanche,” he said. Clear water gave away to gray as she waded deeper, feeling her slippers on rock. But, not daring to confess his want of comprehension, he made a profound reverence, and retired. ‘Lord in heaven, could it be so?’ ‘Don’t look at me,’ exploded Hilary. '—'It's not to be thought of,' says I, thumping the table till every glass on it jingled; 'and I know a way as'll prevent it. It engulfed them in black, white, and gray.
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