The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. "No offence," returned Jonathan. ” Diane’s voice resonated up the stairs. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious.
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