CHAPTER X. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. Miss Miniver learned of her flight and got her address from the Widgetts. She was vaguely happy over this arrangement which put her in the wing across the middle hall, alone. “Tell me,” she insisted, “why you look like that. The longing to talk to someone! But in the end she had gone to her room without giving in to the craving. This man and he were alike, and about the same age. ” “Oh, well!” he said, a little doubtfully, “it’s just a phase,” and bent down and rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment, with his heart beating and his nerves a-quiver. I am your servitor.
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