A crisis had been reached, and she was almost glad it had been reached. Cheveney was looking after her, I think, then. She was a much lighter and more frivolous person, very charming and companionable—but with a difference—a great difference. Passing at a glance over the whole of the intervening period; leaving in the words of the poet, —The growth untried Of that wide gap— we shall resume our narrative at the beginning of June, 1715. The light would betray us. “I’m so glad my Mom’s letting me go out tonight. “I really owe him something of an apology. S.
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