She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. She fought the inclination for a while, then surrendered. “And what was that dreadful confession you had to make?” he was saying. I want to know what you are doing; how you think this work of yours really does serve women. Mischief bubbled up in her. " CHAPTER XV. His suspicions at first fell upon you. ‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid. I’ve thought that out, and you must make up your mind to it. Then to the Golden Ball, in the same street. And I guessed you would attack if I startled you.
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