Before he could return, Jack had made good his retreat; and, wandering about the lanes and hedges, kept out of sight as much as possible. "What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard. He seemed to charge her with the ruin of their situation. It has been a marvellous day—and I am going to England. ‘—without telling her why,’ he finished, ignoring the interjection. I want to fill it with fine and precious things. “Oh, Ann Veronica!” he cried, “I cannot let you go like this! You don’t understand. She did not understand the note of hostility to men that ran through it all, the bitter vindictiveness that lit Miss Miniver’s cheeks and eyes, the sense of some at last insupportable wrong slowly accumulated. Besides, the sun had gone in and it looked like rain. What a frightened fool he was! If he could not remember her name, it was equally possible that already she had forgotten his.
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