He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. She found a little difficulty in beginning. " And he looked at the moment as if he had lost all desire to know it. No doubt— because he did not understand you—he thought you had run away with someone. " "No—no," laughed Jack. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. Spare me, and I'll be quiet—quiet —quiet!" "Mother!" said Jack, advancing towards her. And yet that could not be: it was a confession only in the event of his death.
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