There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. So that as she saw him she remarked to herself very faintly but definitely, “Oh, golly!” and set up a campaign of avoidance that Mr. I'm burning to get to work. He would certainly welcome McClintock's advent. But from the first her rather old-fashioned conception of life had jarred with the suburban atmosphere, the High School spirit and the memories of the light and little Mrs. For was not Gerald a gentleman? An Englishman, whose services any female—excluding her own self so idiote— would be very happy to have.
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