But I never betray an old customer. ‘You’re either mad, or in love. Drink this!” He poured out a glass of wine with a firm hand, and held it to her lips. He's more like a lord than—" As she spoke, steps were heard approaching; the door was thrown open, and a young man marched boldly into the room. Turning now, and running down the terrace. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. Every home is a little recess, a niche, out of the world of business and competition, in which women and the future shelter. A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming.
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