From what she could tell, he truly had convinced himself that he was in love with her, but she knew that his ardor would fade eventually inasmuch as she knew John’s would. “Forgive me,” he said. Keeping hold of the doorhandle, she turned slowly. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, assuming a fearful accent. A short flight of steps brought him to a dark passage, into which he plunged. Manning, her aunt and father, neighbors, customs, traditions, forces. He would talk to Spurlock, but from the bench; as a judge, not as a chagrined lover. He seemed to have expected them. “Dear me! I wonder what I ought to do. “Gellett,” he called, “just come and clear up a mess, will you? I’ve smashed some things. I found him once in my rooms, and I believe that he had a key to my front door. My father thought the latter.
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