" "At least, I will hope so," returned Winifred. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. Her hair and voice and figure are as yours used to be. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. " "Oh, that!" He raised his head, staring at her in blank astonishment. Your second turn is not over, is it?” She laughed a little hardly. Let this be a caution to you in future—with whom, and about what you deal. He said daring things with a grace which made them irresistible, his eyes flashed back upon her some eloquent but silent appreciation of the change in her manner towards him.
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