" "I never doubted the latter point, I assure you, Madam," observed Mrs. “It rained the whole of the time, but we saw all the sights, and the place never seemed dull. Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window. The odds were astounding and yet he had it bad. Ashen blonde, a shade that would never excite the cynical commentary which men applied to certain types of blondes. It was too good to be true. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. By the time she arrived at the Beck’s doorstep, the morning was risen. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. “I was half hoping that I might be allowed to see you home. ” Lucy blinked from the winter sunlight and reached behind herself to yank at her hood.
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