“And so you have been thinking?” her father began, quoting her letter and looking over his slanting glasses at her. Not a word was uttered by the assemblage; but a hush of expectation reigned throughout. “I do not know you,” she said coldly. Bring me clothing, I beg of you. She had discussed the general question of supplies with the helpful landlady. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. "Well, I won't dispute your judgment in such matters, Mr. The knight mechanically complied with his request.
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