All the initial confidence in herself was gone; her courage was merely a shell to hide the lack. " "Your secret?" demanded Trenchard, impatiently. Now the pig knew where to find her—for it would not take long for a Catholic to locate the convent in Golden Square—even if she escaped him here. “Home, of course,” she answered. ‘I only wish I might have won her confidence. The fibre of his soul had to be tested, queerly, to make him worthy of you. It would not burden him with any obligation. I only arrived when everybody was coming away. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. What do you know about her, Fred? I am interested.
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