" "I'm not afraid, mother," said the little girl, smelling at the bouquet. She looked more than her sixty odd years, in spite of a still lush head of black hair, streaked with a little grey, which was visible under her cap and of immediate interest to Gerald. Do not remain with me. There's my thumb upon it. It had neither succumbed to her nor wrathfully overwhelmed her. She was aware of people—her aunt, her father, her fellow-students, friends, and neighbors— moving about outside this glowing secret, very much as an actor is aware of the dim audience beyond the barrier of the footlights. " "Proceed, Sir," said Trenchard, breathing hard.
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