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It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. The girl stupidly ran for the teacher leaving her still without clothing. Will you not remember what has passed between us? I have the right to take my place by your side. "I don't know how it is," he added in a low voice to Thames, as they were left alone, "but I've a strange foreboding of ill. ‘As for you—’ ‘Do not address me.

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