But, not daring to confess his want of comprehension, he made a profound reverence, and retired. He hated travelling second-class with her—indeed, he never did—but he also disliked travelling in the same train when his daughter was in an inferior class, because of the look of the thing. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. Trust you. And now, my love," she added, with a relenting look, "I'm content to make up our quarrel. All other things were without weight or consequence before the fact that this poor young man would have to depend upon her for his life. ” He unfolded his serviette with fingers which shook all the time. “Sorry to be so terribly rude, Martin.
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