She plucked at the knots of her racket and heard him to the end, then spoke in a restrained undertone. “But, of course, she may have come from one of the other flats. "It's wretched enough, indeed, Sir," rejoined the widow; "but, poor as it is, it's better than the cold stones and open streets. He found himself growing hoarse yelling over the music, but it also situated him to lean towards her to put his hand on her ear to aid her hearing. ” He shook his head, and his eyes and the mouth under the black mustache wrinkled with his smile. It ought never to have begun. CHAPTER XV. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. John stared palely.
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