What have you to tell me ?" Mrs.Repton wanted to speak.

Thresk gave her confidence.

He seemed to be a man without many illusions, he was no romantic sentimentalist.

She went back to the poem of which the lines had been chasing one another through her head all through this dinner, as a sort of accompaniment to their conversation.

Had he found it out?
she asked herself-- "The world and what it fears." Thus she hung hesitating while Mrs.Carruthers gathered in her hands her gloves and her fan.