"Allow him that small grace," cried Wood. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come. Courtlaw found the study in Cariolus’ studio. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. In the second, she was wretchedly poor, and assailed by temptations of which you can form no idea. “It’s unforgivable of me to call, Miss Stanley,” he said, shaking hands in a peculiar, high, fashionable manner; “but you know you said we might be friends.
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