" "What proof have you that I am?"—was the return bolt. It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male. This year—I’ve got it badly. I’m a soldier, you see. And Mother trusted him. The word "criticism" had no concrete meaning to her then; no more than "compromise. Although Martha did not know it, she had her pistol and her daggers, and her knife. ‘I am Major Gerald Alderley of the West Kent Militia. As soon as he became convalescent, and all fears of his premature dissolution were at an end, Wild recommenced his rigorous treatment.
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