Now, he must have folks somewhere. And how could I come home—when he locks me in rooms and all that?” “I do wish this wasn’t going on,” said Miss Stanley, after a pause. “What did it matter?” she cried. . ‘She ought to be. Dieu du ciel, but where was Gerald? On the move again, she found herself standing before one of the mirrors, gazing into her own countenance without seeing it. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet. The ruffled chemise-front under the wide lapels of her waistcoat and jacket no longer quivered, and her pose, with the full cloth petticoat spreading about her, was relaxed. A stiff, formally-cut coat of cinnamon-coloured cloth, with rows of plate buttons, each of the size of a crown piece, on the sleeves, pockets, and skirts, reached the middle of his legs; and his costume was completed by the silver-hilted sword at his side, and the laced hat under his left arm. ” “I am very glad,” he answered, in a low tone. . He insisted once again on opening the car door for her. I was reduced to 170 a fool, for there were many pretty women from all walks of life in that teeming city. You come to visit a completely different gentleman at his home.
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