‘That was one of my own clever stories. He paused at the bamboo curtain of her room, which was in semi-darkness. ‘After all the threats you’ve made, that is hardly fair. He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side. She turned her eyes to him again, and saw her late friend and pleasant and trusted companion, who had seen fit suddenly to change into a lover, babbling interesting inacceptable things. “Dear friend,” she said, “remember that you are speaking to one who has failed in the only serious object which she has ever sought to accomplish. Daughters were not like sons.
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