But she had
liked him so much, and had been so bitterly disappointed to learn from
his own loving sister that he was not the "Mr. Balm of Gilead" created
by her imagination that it would be unbearable to meet him again, to
see him "giving himself away," and thus proving his sister right.
To be sure, after seeing Miss Rolls in the lift, certain kind
protestations of friendship had been contradicted by a frozen smile, a
cold, embarrassed eye. If Peter's sister were insincere in one way,
why not untrustworthy in others? This was one of the questions that
darted into Win's brain at night through one of the holes made there
by the giant bees of the "L" road. But the answer was obvious. Miss
Rolls might be superficial, insincere, and snobbish enough to dislike
claiming acquaintance with a girl of the "working classes," but there
was no motive strong enough to make her traduce her brother's
character. Even untrustworthy people told the truth sometimes.
It was rather fortunate, perhaps, that Win had another exciting
thought to engross her attention at this time, though it was no more
agreeable than the thought of Peter Rolls. After her conversation with
Mr.
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