Pity you aren’t under my command. But if I escape, my gratitude—" "Pshaw!" interrupted Jonathan, scornfully. She felt that she had passed a difficult corner, and that now she could go on talking with him again, just as she had been used to do before she understood what was the matter with her. She read voraciously, and presently, because of her aunt’s censorship, she took to smuggling any books she thought might be prohibited instead of bringing them home openly, and she went to the theatre whenever she could produce an acceptable friend to accompany her. Kneebone, Van Galgebrok, and Baptist Kettleby—all of whom greeted him cordially.
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