Mrs. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. They went down the great staircase of the building, and, while she sought in her mind for a beginning, he broke into appreciation of her simple dress and selfcongratulations upon their engagement. “Odd!” he remarked, rather surprisingly, after a little interval. . Marry, come up! I've been a great deal too charitable. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. CHAPTER XV. ‘I knew I should find you still here. .
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