She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. ‘Nevertheless, he will neither help me, nor will I seek his help. As he proceeded, other painful reminiscences were aroused. " "We waste time with this fellow," interposed Sir Cecil, "and may lose the object of our quest, who, beyond doubt, has taken refuge in this building. Perhaps you will meet him someday.
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