" "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses. She walked for a mile or more recklessly, close veiled, with swift level footsteps, though her brain was in a whirl and a horrible faintness all the time hovered about her. She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. " O'Higgins extracted a cigar from a pocket and inspected it. “That doesn’t touch the question I asked you,” she said.
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