"Canon Ronder," Gladys Sampson cried, "come and see what we've done."
He moved forward and patted little Betty Callender on the head as he
passed. "Are you all right, my dear, and your father?"
It appeared that Betty was delighted. Suddenly he saw Joan.
"Oh, good evening, Miss Brandon." He altered his tone for her, speaking as
though she were an equal.
Joan looked at him; colour flamed in her cheeks. She did not reply, and
then feeling as though in an instant she would do something quite
disgraceful, she slipped from the room.
Soon, after gently smiling at the parlourmaid, who was an old friend of
hers because she had once been in service at the Brandons, she found
herself standing, a little lost and bewildered, at the corner of Green
Lane and Orange Street. Lost and bewildered because one emotion after
another seemed suddenly to have seized upon her and taken her captive.
Lost and bewildered almost as though she had been bewitched, carried off
through the shining skies by her captor and then dropped, deserted, left,
in some unknown country.
Green Lane in the evening light had a fairy air.
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