Love alone would stead her; she could but shut her eyes, and breathe, as if in prayer, the declaration that her love was a sacred thing, cancelling verbal untruth.
She changed her dress, and went down to luncheon.

The large dining-room seemed to oppress her insignificance; to eat was impossible, and with difficulty she conversed before the servants.

Fortunately, Denzil was in his best spirits; he enjoyed the wintery atmosphere, talked of skating on the ice which had known him as a boy, laughed over an old story about a snowball with a stone in it which had stunned him in one of the fights between town and Grammar School.
"Pity the election can't come on just now!--we should have lively times.

A snowball is preferable to an addled egg any day.

The Poltram folks"-- this was the common pronunciation of the town's name--"have a liking for missiles at seasons of excitement." From table, they went to the library--as yet unfurnished with volumes--and made themselves comfortable by the fireside.