Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. Her hair was held back in a filigreed barrette. It is the horse of the priest, you understand, and—and he does not know that I have borrowed it. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. Straitened circumstances would not have mattered; a mother would have managed somehow. My father was Colonel Pellissier. With such qualifications as she possessed, two chief channels of employment lay open, and neither attracted her, neither seemed really to offer a conclusive escape from that subjection to mankind against which, in the person of her father, she was rebelling.
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