132 “I thought you wanted me—you told me so when we kissed in the park!” He cried. . There was once a philanthropist who dressed with shameful shabbiness and carried pearls in his pocket. Let me see my child, if he is really here?" "Behold him!" returned Trenchard, taking Thames (who had been a mute, but deeply-interested, witness of the scene) by the hand, and leading him towards her. It was a grand life. Miss Stanley hesitated, and took first one and then another of the constituents of this costume off its peg and surveyed it. She snapped out of her blissful state and looked at him squarely in the eyes. "I haven't offended you?"—not contritely but curiously. But it never said: "Tell someone! Tell someone!" Was he something of a moral pervert, then? Was it what he had lost—the familiar world—rather than what he had done? He stared dully at the footrail. Cathy Beck was terribly upset and was on the verge of exploding.
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