144 I think he heard about the backpack and the spitballs finally. “But Sebastian! I need them!” He smiled, not a smile of comfort, but a smile of terrible menace. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. By this time, she had so far succeeded in calming herself, that she answered the greetings of the neighbours whom she encountered on her way to the sacred edifice—if sorrowfully, still composedly. ‘Thought it was downright wicked to keep you ignorant of your proper background.
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