She could still feel his psychic presence all around her, and she knew he was thinking of her. One has to train one’s self not to. Good-bye, for the pressent—ha! ha!" And, laughing loudly at his own facetiousness, he quitted the Lodge. "Who isn't it like?" he asked, endeavouring to gain possession of the drawing, which, af the sound of his footstep, she crushed between her fingers. “A woman wants a proper alliance with a man, a man who is better stuff than herself. But he's witty and amusing, and when reasonably drunk he can play the piano like a Paderewski. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. Keep a sharp look out, Austin, and see that we lose no one else. I wonder. His anger gave way to grim humour and he thrust towards them, leaning heavily on his cane. And girls and women, perhaps, are different.
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