“You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. So he sharpened a score of pencils, and after fiddling about and rewriting the last page he had written the previous night, he plunged into work. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. ‘Or do I arrest you and have these soldiers march you off to gaol?’ A sweep of his arm indicated the array of military strength on the benches, every eye of which was trained on the little scene being enacted before them. For her mother to betray her seemed inevitable, but the betrayal seemed worse than her fate. "You have betrayed me," said he, in a deep whisper, to his companion; "but you shall reap the reward of your treachery. And Miss Miniver began to sway her.
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