The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park. " "Oh. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. Her brown curls were pulled tight in a severe chignon. ” He replied. " "Anything else, Sir?" "No:—stay! you'd better not bring up any silver forks or spoons. You may fall into the hands of your enemy. With this she now entered. The owner was at the door unhooking a few articles of wearing apparel which he had exposed outside for sale. In a moment or two, Madame Valade recovered her sangfroid. “Now I’ll have what I want from you, wife. Stanley.
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