" "Perhaps he is from Lord Derwentwater, or Mr. “But—your people!” she gasped. “Nobody understands them, of course, but we all look as though we did. She was extremely showily dressed, and her large hooped petticoat gave additional effect to her lofty stature. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. ‘You, soldiers,’ she yelled. From what she could tell, he truly had convinced himself that he was in love with her, but she knew that his ardor would fade eventually inasmuch as she knew John’s would. “There, there, now. It slipped out—as did that “she”. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. ‘It’s a pretty name.
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