It was wonderful to think this thing had lived, had felt and suffered. ToC Tyburn was now at hand. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. So I undertook to protect her by keeping love out of her life, by crushing it whenever it appeared, obliterating it. " "Did I hear you aright?" asked Trenchard, with startling eagerness. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester.
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