The cart, meantime, had approached the fatal tree. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. Mind, I, Baptist Kettleby, say so. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. Great sport, eh? To haul them back from the ragged edge. . She bolted upright as she heard footsteps rumble towards the door, cursing UPS for being so damn persistent in such foul weather. If I had known that you had meant to talk like this I wouldn’t have come here. " But she did not complete the thought aloud. He was always one step ahead of the curve, and he had found the right girls would always rat on a ringleader when their own academic records or passage to top rated colleges were at stake. After all a thousand pounds is a trifle to rid you of an upstart, who may chance to deprive you of tens of thousands. I have read that authors are very selfish and self-centred.
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