” Ennison glanced at the other people in the box and smiled. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. "Rot, weren't they?" "No. ‘You see, it is that my papa, he is without sympathy,’ said the lady sadly. She began to look for beauty and discover it in unexpected aspects and places. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. "Your son," replied Jack,—"your miserable, repentant son.
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