She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent. Why am I here—thirty years of loneliness? Because I know women, the good and the bad; and because I could not have the good, I would not take the bad. ‘Suzanne, if I may say, had also not the choice. “Dear old Daddy,” she said, “he’ll make a fearful fuss. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony.
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