“You’re a student, perhaps?” said the tall woman. “Great. “No, I mean that we should assemble ourselves in case your parents arrive home. ” “Of course you’re converted?” she said. ‘Never. The inner apartment was rather gracefully furnished with a thick, fine Turkish carpet, a good brass fender, a fine old bureau, and on the walls were engravings of two young girls’ heads by Greuze, and of some modern picture of boys bathing in a sunlit pool. It was fortunate that by this time Winifred had so far recovered, as to be able to afford her father the best and only solace that, under the circumstances, he could have received,—her personal attentions. A crisis had been reached, and she was almost glad it had been reached. He had the appearance of a man who has known no rest for many nights. Gerald grinned. He walked her home. \" She whirled around by instinct, frightening the boy who she had borrowed the pencil from. "Who took it thence?" "Thames Darrell; the boy at your side.
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