The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual. ‘Major Gerald Alderley, I arrest you in the name of the King. She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. “I have loved you,” he was saying, “ever since you sat on that gate and talked. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. But behind these things which you have said to me there must be others of which I know nothing. .
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