Daughters were not like sons. "What did you say to him?" inquired Jonathan, suspiciously. " "Nonsense," returned Jonathan gruffly. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. "Aye—to pretend to her that you don't care. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. “Let me know the truth.
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