" "May I trust you?" cried Thames, eagerly. She was greatly exercised by the problem of confiding in the Widgetts; they were dears, and she talked away two evenings with Constance without broaching the topic; she made some vague intimations in letters to Miss Miniver that Miss Miniver failed to mark. The appearance of the new-comer was extremely prepossessing; and, after his trepidation had a little subsided, Wood began to regard him with some degree of interest. The season was ripe for mating, she thought to herself bitterly. This woman knows me—’ throwing the remark at Lucilla ‘—and that I am the daughter of Mary Remenham. She had viewed them askance, and without exchanging ideas with any one else in the world about them.
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