Anyhow he confessed that he was a fraud. She looked around her. A fire enveloped her, a fire which was strangely healing, filling her heart with warmth, blotting out the menace of the world. ‘I feared as much. For a moment none of them stirred; then slowly Enschede turned away. Hastening to the spot where he had tied his horse to a tree, he vaulted into the saddle, and rode off across the fields,—for he was fearful of encountering the hostile party,—till he reached the Edgeware Road. Even now she could trace the outline of his shape behind the left-hand curtain. The one fault, indeed, of this school of fiction for him was that it had rather a light way with parental rights. ‘Do not say such things, you—you imbecile.
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