Cheveney was looking after her, I think, then. He was out of breath, and spoke in broken sentences. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. "I see you don't know him as well as you pretend. " "We know it," cried several voices. Relief flooded her. I am safe while I am there, for I have had bolts fitted everywhere, and a pane of glass in the front door. There was a certain amount of disputation, and meanwhile she went on at school. She seemed just as stiff and shy as a girl ought to be, Lady Palsworthy thought, neither garrulous nor unready, and free from nearly all the heavy aggressiveness, the overgrown, overblown quality, the egotism and want of consideration of the typical modern girl.
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