“Oh, I am lonely,” she moaned. But to-day he did not get beyond half a dozen desultory start-offs. " "The very idea is dreadful," whimpered Edgeworth Bess. “You won’t give me away, Anna. But heavens, I must pack!” She sprang to her feet and disappeared in the room beyond, from which she emerged a few minutes later with flushed cheeks and dishevelled hair. Her father’s ideas of expostulation were a little harsh and forcible, and over the claret-colored table-cloth and under the gas chandelier, with his hat and umbrella between them like the mace in Parliament, he and his daughter contrived to have a violent quarrel. " But she did not complete the thought aloud. It would be too mortifying. . ” “She liked everything. It was Blueskin.
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