"These writer chaps are queer birds. His red hair marked him, cut short into a round shape that had the texture of a Brillo pad. She held out the foil. " "The very face," exclaimed Gay, advancing to look at it;—"with all the escapes written in it. Remote little Ann Veronica! She would never know the heart of that child again! That child had loved fairy princes with velvet suits and golden locks, and she was in love with a real man named Capes, with little gleams of gold on his cheek and a pleasant voice and firm and shapely hands. " "Hurt her? It would tear her to pieces; God knows she has had enough.
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