The silence grew unbearable, so she asked, \"What is your surname, John?\" \"My surname? You mean my last name?\" \"Yes. Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now unexpectedly aware. ” She drove off in a little fiacre, nodding and smiling at Sir John, who remained upon the Avenue. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. CHAPTER XXVII. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. “None, I thank you,” he answered. ’ ‘All the way to England?’ She opened wide eyes.
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