The carpenter well knew from the obstacle which had interfered with his own progress, that the unknown could not have passed through the same lock as himself. He scratched his upper lip reflectively. ’ ‘Very true. I'll put you aboard The Tigress to-morrow after sundown. His face fell. ‘I do not understand you. Annabel thought, and thought again. But I'm resolved to see Lady Trafford. Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover.
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