We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses. She took up a book and threw it down again. “You’ve interested me enormously. She put a hand to the lad’s cold cheek and choked on a sob. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. Lucy looked at her with a small measure of pity. "I say," retorted Edgeworth Bess, with a very unfeminine imprecation, "I shan't stand any more of that nonsense. Don't suppose," she added, with a scornful glance at her helpmate, "that I would pay him the compliment of thinking he could possibly be the father of such a boy as you.
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