There was no keeping Sheila from the truth, and it was better that anyone who lived under her roof knew it. She turned the television off. She leaves town to-morrow. "I couldn't bear to see you in it. Leaving the library by the same door she had first used to enter it earlier that day, she crossed the two little antechambers and moved on through the rooms. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe. He saw now that it was merely a boy. Come down with me to the Lodge directly. "No more, please! I am bewildered enough. “Miss Pellissier,” he said, “don’t!” “Why not?” she asked, smiling. .
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