Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. She was aware of people—her aunt, her father, her fellow-students, friends, and neighbors— moving about outside this glowing secret, very much as an actor is aware of the dim audience beyond the barrier of the footlights. I shall take to him as nat'ral as if he were my own flesh and blood afore long. He's going to ask you to Prom. These things did not harmonize with his conception of the forthcoming (if unavoidable) interview. Never did I need a rescue so much. Wood, terrified by the wildness of her looks. Speedily recovering himself, however, he rejoined, with forced calmness, "You are mistaken, Sir.
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