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He had become an extremely handsome man, his hair having darkened and his shoulders having realized their full size. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. His father spoke for him. The next weekend arrived and she made her decision. ‘What am I looking for?’ ‘A miniature. About this time,—namely, in November, 1703— while young Trenchard was in Lancashire, and his sister in London, on a visit, he received a certain communication from his confidential servant, Davies, which, at once, destroyed his hopes. “Manning,” she said, and contemplated a figure of inaggressive persistence.
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