"Vell," he growled, addressing Quilt, "you know who's here, I suppose?" "To be sure I do," replied Quilt; "my noble friend, the Marquis of Slaughterford. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. In the present case it did not matter, as there was no one else within earshot. "Lean on me," said Jack. He knew that tragedy was as blind as justice, that it struck the child and the grown-up impartially. ’ ‘True enough,’ nodded Martha sadly. Now you haven’t the ghost of one—not if you play the game fair. For the past four weeks mirrors had been her delight, a new toy. “How would you prevent it?” she asked. Certain reserves went down on both sides.
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