” “I am afraid,” she murmured, “that it would be difficult. "I was," answered Sheppard. She mentioned, with familiar respect, Christ and Buddha and Shelley and Nietzsche and Plato. Not us. There was something which chilled even him in the cold impassivity of her features. “Mid-thirties. She was not afraid exactly, but there was that about her loneliness to-night she distrusted. But the besetting evil of the place, and that which drew down the severest censures of the writers above-mentioned, was that this spot,—which of all others should have been most free from such intrusion—was made a public exhibition. Parbleu, but must she do this all through the house? Evidently she must, for not only could she not properly see the paintings and portraits that hung on the walls, but she was in imminent danger of bumping into the sheet-shrouded furniture. “If any one should know——you should! He was your friend. E.
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