CHAPTER XII. ’ ‘Will you indeed? Truly?’ His smile held so much tenderness, she was tempted to surrender at once. But I can give it its name now. 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. "Do nothing without consulting my father—your father, Thames," she implored.
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