It’s a pure joy of giving—giving to YOU. In her little sitting-room she turned on the electric light and looked around half fearfully. All through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object. He was a young man of about two-and-twenty, who, without having anything remarkable either in dress or appearance, was yet a noticeable person, if only for the indescribable expression of cunning pervading his countenance. Its heroes never had daughters, they borrowed other people’s. She saw herself in very much Vivie’s position—managing something.
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