"Flight is still left me," replied Trenchard. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. Looking sullen, he released the handle and sat back. His eyes were fixed upon her face, but he opened his lips twice before he spoke. "I'm sure little Jack has but one friend beside myself, in the world, and that's more than I would have ventured to say for him yesterday. Miss Stanley walked round the garden thinking, and presently house and garden reverberated to Ann Veronica’s slamming of the front door. I’m afraid I’m a terribly clumsy fellow. ‘Damn you, what’s the matter with you?’ he snapped in frustration.
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