Brendon was silent. Her father became much less distant towards his only daughter in the days that followed. They were properly brought up, and sat still and straight, and took the luck fate brought them as gentlewomen should. She went to the table under the end window at which she had been accustomed to work, and found it swept and garnished with full bottles of re-agents. She laughed a little contemptuously. ‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. ‘But for my dowry, what else? One cannot expect that an Englishman will marry any jeune demoiselle without a dowry. Then to the Dean's Head, in St. A.
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