” Ennison looked steadily at the cigarette which he was tapping on his forefinger. Perhaps she was. Sheppard. Poor little one. " "Oh! do not say so," replied his wretched parent. ” “It’s all the same,” said Miss Miniver. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. But I'll tell e'e what we might do——" The young man heard no more. Jackson smiled and put on the air of a man who knows more than he cares to tell.
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