207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. “I love your sister. There was a moment’s breathless and disappointed silence. She walked back to the car. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, assuming a fearful accent. ’ He looked the girl up and down. Your disobedience be upon your own head. ’ And with that he went off to the City, stern and silent, leaving his bacon on his plate—a great slice of bacon hardly touched. The manager tells me that you are an American. A cold shiver came over her. He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him.
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