It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. Never was heard such a bawling as these unfortunate wights kept up. She would be enduing this chap with attributes he did not possess, clothing him in fictional ruffles. For many of them it will smirch us forever. "I am happy—quite happy now. Her aunt went out of the room with dignity and a rustle, and up-stairs to the fastness of her own room. It was in another world from that in which men will die for a kiss, and touching hands lights fires that burn up lives—the world of romance, the world of passionately beautiful things. ” “What ball?” The question was rhetorical.
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