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Keeping hold of the doorhandle, she turned slowly. "Promise me that. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. “Not home yet, miss,” the young man replied. "In the mean time, with your permission, I'll just make a few minutes of our conversation. But luncheon and dinners you will sit at my table. ’ ‘Well, don’t blame me if you get your head blown off. Afraid there'll be a love-affair. It was high afternoon, there was no great throng of footpassengers, and many an eye from omnibus and pavement rested gratefully on her fresh, trim presence as she passed young and erect, with the light of determination shining through the quiet self-possession of her face.
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