“Why not?” Lady Lescelles answered. ’ Colour suffused the man’s face. Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer. With a little sigh of happiness she accepted this new thing. "How sweet these roses are! Shall I put them into water?" "Put them where they came from," replied Mrs. \" He looked crestfallen. He did not look at her directly, though she fantasized that she could 141 feel his stares from the back of the class on occasion. . “I have hurt my father,” she said; “I have hurt my aunt. She ran away from you; and now I can easily understand why. It is that, is it not?” “No,” he answered readily. "May come!—it will come!—it shall come!" cried the carpenter, shaking his hand menacingly at him. She yielded it without protest, as though unconsciously.
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