The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. I was compelled to run away. When he came to a certain sentence in Brendon’s letter he stopped short and looked up at her. “Are you in a hurry? Will you come in and have some coffee?” He hesitated, and glanced towards her companion. "Don't disturb yourself," continued the other, nowise disconcerted by the rebuke. He understood now that it was a part of her inheritance. I worshipped her and subdued myself. Upon what this instinct was based she could not say; she was conscious only of its insistence.
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