All the fury had left her, swamped by an inexplicable flood of warmth. “You will write to me, I am sure—and from the date of your letter I trust most earnestly that I may come back to my old place as “Your devoted friend, “WALTER BRENDON. At least, I hope so for his sake as well as my own," he added, mentally. "Where's Thames?" he hastily inquired. He was not sure that the boy had put himself beyond the pale; merely, the boy's actions pointed that way. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse.
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