” “Kitty is wonderful,” said another. I was—I was a corespondent. ” He said. “Ah, Vee,” he said, “that’s better! and kissed her back rather clumsily. A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. Let us stay the night here. . ’ His face changed, all the humour and tenderness leaving it in an instant. When she looked into their eyes, her despair put her beyond tears. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. It was enough that she witnessed it and could not go to him.
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