“It’s my fault. “I loathe afternoon concerts, and——” She was really like her sister he thought, impressed for a moment by the soft brilliancy of her smile. The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. But at the word “home” she turned again. They were those of the Irish watchman. She saw Lucy darkening her doorstep and stood from the recliner. Then fury claimed her and she could no longer pretend. We were alike. When she had finished the first tale, there was a sense of disappointment. She possessed it, astonishing fact! She had summoned this energy so continuously during the past four weeks that now it was abiding; she knew that it would always be with her, on guard. White would not approve of callers. "The gentleman is a stranger to me, Poll," replied the woollen-draper, with increased embarrassment.
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