Come along, you mad jade. He liked to draw her in, and she did her best to talk. “Suppose you call me by my proper name,” she said quietly. You did not marry her because you loved her; you did not marry because she might have had money; you did not marry her out of gratitude; you did not marry her because you had to. So I undertook to protect her by keeping love out of her life, by crushing it whenever it appeared, obliterating it. But he died when he was a child—long ago—long ago—long ago. They were true noblemen, men of the court. “Look here, daddy,” she said, in a tone of great reasonableness, “I MUST go to that dance, you know.
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