It seemed as if each time her imagination reached out investingly, an invisible lash beat it back. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy. ” He recovered himself. ’ ‘With ease, mademoiselle,’ he countered, catching her blade. “I am glad,” she told herself, “I came. C. Wagstaff. You don’t happen to know of any one, I suppose, who wants a nursery governess, or a clerk—without shorthand—or a tryer-on, or a copyist, or——” “For Heaven’s sake stop, Miss Pellissier,” he interrupted.
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