‘She won’t. . She closed her eyes more vividly to recall some line which had carried the blot. . ” He pushed her a dozen yards along the greasy pavement with flat, well-trained hands that there seemed to be no opposing. The wall of the sky, the wall of the horizon, the wall behind which each human being hid—the wall behind which she herself was hiding! If only her mother had lived, her darling mother! Presently the unhappy puzzlement left her face; and an inward glow began to lighten it. Anna was afterwards astonished at her own selfpossession. And then if some day Capes wanted her—saw fit to alter his views upon friendship. The dress was her mother's, and she was wearing it to save a little extra money. She seemed honestly glad to see him. "He has not the power—perhaps not the will to do so. ’ Lucy was silent for a space, once again wearing that inscrutable expression. “I tell my Mom everything. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. .
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