At any moment, Cathy Beck could arrive home and see them, then he would be eating dinner with 6 them, almost whether he liked it or not. He sat with folded arms and knitted brows, thinking intently. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. Melusine fetched her stool and plonked it down next to her great-aunt’s chair. Dear me, what a nuisance it is to have a pseudo husband shot down upon one from the skies. I want to leave Paris to-day. “GOOD CATCH, ALBERT!” A husky girl had bayed as she witnessed the puck’s abrupt flight. Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. “Of course,” she said diffidently, “this is a boarding-house, although we never take in promiscuous travellers. I cannot live without you, Anna.
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