4. " "Entreat a fiddlestick!" retorted Mrs. What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers. “Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. Her eyes were lit with a gleam of humour. One trouble, however, shot its slanting bolts athwart the shining warmth of that opening day and marred its perfection, and that was the thought of her father. Gerald, intent on his trail, ignored it. Besides, the sun had gone in and it looked like rain.
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