She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. "Much that I would willingly forget. CHAPTER XXII. She had something of the feeling a Hindoo must experience who has been into surroundings or touched something that offends his caste. Gosse must now fight with his back to the altar, and a dais at his heels. There was something which chilled even him in the cold impassivity of her features. She walked with an easy quickness down the Avenue and through the proletarian portion of Morningside Park, and crossing these fields came into a pretty overhung lane that led toward Caddington and the Downs.
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