“MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. A dreamy sense of content crept over him. "Well, Sir?" gasped Sir Rowland. "I love her already. " He stuffed the printed chintz into her arms and smiled into her eyes. Her state of mind would have seemed altogether discreditable to her grandmother. ” “It is a conspiracy,” she exclaimed. “I am not sure,” Anna answered. She pulled her hand away quickly. Where's the dining room? And, say, can I have some eggs? This jam-tea breakfast gets my goat. For I still love her mother. I said I knew he disliked and distrusted you and your work—that you shared all Russell’s opinions: he hates Russell beyond measure—and that we couldn’t possibly face a conventional marriage. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. ‘Small wonder in a way that he found hisself consolation elsewhere.
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