‘I thought—I thought I saw my—my husband. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. It may bring us together again. His progress, however, was checked by loud acclamations, announcing the arrival of the Master of the Mint and his train. “When are you going away?” He asked. Wood, with a message for Lady Trafford.
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