She glanced into his face. The rooks were cawing amid the boughs, and all nature appeared awaking to happiness. Easy enough. As she crossed the square, almost within a stone’s throw of her lodgings, she came face to face with Courtlaw. The idea that he held in his arms the girl whom he had once so passionately loved, and for whom he still retained an ardent but hopeless attachment, almost overcame him. Brown or Jones, I dare say. Both had dropped the rather elaborate politeness of the dining-room, and in their faces an impartial observer would have discovered little lines of obstinate wilfulness in common; a certain hardness—sharp, indeed, in the father and softly rounded in the daughter—but hardness nevertheless, that made every compromise a bargain and every charity a discount.
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