He stood still, almost breathless. Softly she rose to her feet. "Ruth?" "Hoddy!" she cried. "Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman. Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world. Some friends who saw us dining together persist in alluding to her as Miss Annabel Pellissier. Impassive by nature and training, he was conscious to-night of a strange sense of excitement, of exhilaration tempered by a dull background of disappointment. A pair of long-lashed blue eyes studied them both as she slowly brought her hands down to rest by her sides. " As he said this, he moved forward a few paces, when, finding his feet glued to the ground by some adhesive substance, he stooped to feel what it was, but instantly withdrew his hand, with an exclamation of horror. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly.
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