” “You came—here!” he repeated, vaguely. “MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. I begin to understand Jane Austen and chintz covers and decency and refinement and all the rest of it. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. Annabel Pellissier was not like the others, he said. He let go of the girl’s arm. Probably he will come around to-morrow and begin all over again. He was followed with equal celerity by Terence and the widow. It isn’t illusions—for us. "You know my fixed determination," he added in a low tone, as he passed the carpenter. Wasn’t it—a little bit of a scene?” “Oh! let me see.
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