He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. Never. It slipped out—as did that “she”. " "Oh, yes I will. Stanley decided to treat that as irrelevant. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. Hastening in the direction of the sound, he discovered Thames Darrell, stretched upon the ground. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. Then pain entered their depths. She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered.
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