A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter. He did not look at her directly, though she fantasized that she could 141 feel his stares from the back of the class on occasion. ‘Parbleu, I hope that I do not have many more times to come in this way to the house,’ she muttered fretfully. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?. “You don’t want to go?” “No. And, if I can render you any service, you may command me.
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