They crossed the Channel in sunshine and a breeze that just ruffled the sea to glittering scales of silver. She could no longer wait. The curtains which she had left drawn were open, and the electric lights were turned on. "What a wonderful colour!" she exclaimed. It was Ennison who for the rest of his visit was quiet and subdued. Of this boy she had only caught a glimpse;—but that glimpse was sufficient to satisfy her it was her son,—and, if she could have questioned her own instinctive love, she could not question her antipathy, when she beheld, partly concealed by a pillar immediately in the rear of the woollen-draper, the dark figure and truculent features of Jonathan Wild. "What has caused this quarrel, Thames?" asked the little girl, anxiously. Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love. “These are the sort of things that aren’t supposed to happen. I’ll have to wait here, of course, which means you, Hilary—’ ‘Will have to do tomorrow’s patrol. A good deal of the food will be in tins.
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