“Then why the devil,” he demanded, “do you let me stand you dinners and the opera—and why do you come to a cabinet particuliar with me?” He became radiant with anger. Hers were less noble, yet stately. Ennison paused by the little gate. Ashen blonde, a shade that would never excite the cynical commentary which men applied to certain types of blondes. Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. He did everything. " "It matters not. It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand. Manning?” she asked. .
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