“Idiot!” She raged inwardly while she walked along with that air of self-contained serenity that is proper to a young lady of nearly two-and-twenty under the eye of the world. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. ” “I am highly flattered,” she remarked, with subtle irony. “It was a phase,” she said. “I think I ought to have one. Deuce take it! I was very near spelling my name with one P. The houses overhung in a frightful manner, and looked as if the next gust would precipitate them into the river. I’m a hard young woman. CHAPTER I.
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