She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue. They've heard quite enough for my purpose," he muttered, as his orders were obeyed, and the domestics excluded. He was wrapped in a laced roquelaure, which he threw off on his entrance into the room. We close the chapter. It makes no difference. All she had found was the love of this dog. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality.
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