Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall. " "You, Miss Enschede?"—frankly astonished that one stranger should offer succour to another. NOW it’s just as though you had grown up suddenly. "We have had a sad loss, my dear Winifred," he began,—"for I must use the privilege of an old friend, and address you by that familiar name,—we have had a sad loss in the death of your lamented parent, whose memory I shall for ever revere. " He drew down the lamp and blew it out, and followed her into the night, more lovely than he had ever imagined night to be. It ought not to be much. “Are you in the Service?” She asked him. " "Oh.
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