The life of a girl presented itself to her as something happy and heedless and unthinking, yet really guided and controlled by others, and going on amidst unsuspected screens and concealments. I haven’t, anyhow. "Where are you going?" cried Thames, who, though wholly disencumbered, was scarcely able to keep up with him. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. White looked mysteriously about the room as though to be sure that no one was listening.
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