. Her disapproval was obvious enough. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. Her heart thudded. A disagreeable young man, with red hair and a loose mouth, seated at the reporter’s table, was only too manifestly sketching her. “What’s that young lady’s name—girl in dark brown, stranger here?” Mr. ’ ‘That is what you thought of me. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. ” She smiled faintly.
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