” She glanced shyly at the mirror above her dressing-table, and then about her at the furniture, as though it might penetrate to the thoughts that peeped in her mind. ‘You, soldiers,’ she yelled. She had no inkling of that insupportable wrong. Manning’s handwriting had an air of being clear without being easily legible; it was large and rather roundish, with a lack of definition about the letters and a disposition to treat the large ones as liberal-minded people nowadays treat opinions, as all amounting to the same thing really—a yearssmoothed boyish rather than an adult hand. Maggot, kissing her hand to him. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul. CHAPTER I. A tourist caravan of four pole-chairs jogged along a narrow street. This did not tickle his vanity; on the contrary, it enlivened his terror, which is a phase of fascination.
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