“How could it not have hurt?” His analytical side started putting in overtime. Sir John was not used to such glances, and he liked them. “And to think that it’s not a full year ago since I was a black-hearted rebel school-girl, distressed, puzzled, perplexed, not understanding that this great force of love was bursting its way through me! All those nameless discontents—they were no more than love’s birth-pangs. She was enchanted by the beauty of the other girls, who were magically transformed into fairies and elves by makeup into seemingly unfamiliar yet glamorous new people. But I forget," he added, glancing at Austin; "it's high treason to speak disrespectfully of Mr.
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