” She watched his face as he traced his way through these speculative thickets. He was a good foster dad that had never so much as leered at her, not even once. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. . She was in a very uncritical state that afternoon. . That night she found a ship bound to sail for the heathen nation called America. Wild in his own domain. It wound around a small manufactured lake. Your husband could have told you that. ’ ‘You see, I am of them,’ she said seriously, ‘but not with them—yet.
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