“This is my way back to my side of the Park,” she said. I am an independent sort of person,” she continued, “and I am engaged in an attempt to earn my own living. He grunted a little with effort, and she realised the gilt frame must be heavy. He had died before they married, and when her brother became a widower she had come to his assistance and taken over much of the care of his youngest daughter. She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue. Bravo!—the best cly-faker of 'em all couldn't have done it better.
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