“I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. The sounds that reach the ear, and the objects that meet the eye, are all calculated to awaken a train of sad and serious contemplation. “He’s a Fellow of the Royal Society, and he can’t be much over thirty,” said Miss Klegg. ” She replied with a rehearsed answer, “I was told that my real mother died the day I was born. He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, debonnair, good-looking. .
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