To his relief, she nodded. He turned his back on that temptation. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. An uncomfortable silence followed. They mean something. She ought to have been disposed to faint and scream at all these happenings; she ought to have maintained a front of outraged dignity to veil the sinking of her heart. When a mere child she fixed her affections upon a youth named Thames Darrell, whom her father brought up, and who perished, it is supposed, about nine years ago; and she has determined to remain faithful to his memory. "You know what I mean," said the trader, gravely.
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