‘Now then, girl. The Procession to Tyburn 462 XXXII. “Well, I don’t think you told him as much as that, did you?” Lady Lescelles asked. No matter. ’ ‘Sir!’ came from Trodger, and the booted feet clattered off and out of the front door. She did not understand the note of hostility to men that ran through it all, the bitter vindictiveness that lit Miss Miniver’s cheeks and eyes, the sense of some at last insupportable wrong slowly accumulated. She sprang to her feet and stood listening with parted lips and eager eyes. For just as though a vague likeness is sometimes borne swiftly in upon one, so a vague dissimilarity between the face on the poster and the heroine of his thoughts had slowly crept into his consciousness.
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