“I will send you a copy,” Mr. Then she examined with curiosity some knick-knacks upon a small round table by her side. Only Gwen left a letter on the pincushion. “She is living there now,” she remarked. . " "And with some justice," replied Thornhill, drily. A young man was playing the banjo. Do you see the time?” “I may come and see you?” Ennison asked, as his hand touched hers. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. Anticipating this, Wild avoided the shot by suddenly, ducking his head. She could not go to him when it was apparent that he needed her beyond all other instances! What had caused this agony did not matter—then. She did not want to feel such negative emotion towards any member of her foster family. It was a different world. .
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