He frowned. He addressed her by that title, and something in the tone disturbed her. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. After the sights he would have to twiddle his thumbs until the joints cracked. She ran away from you; and now I can easily understand why. And if I cared to have him come every day, why shouldn’t he? I find him very amusing and very useful as well. And you know all about that shot. You’ve placed me in a very exceptional position, Miss Stanley. I wouldn't accept my life from him. A girl—at my age—is grown-up. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.
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