” John traced his finger over the meeting point of her breast and her ribcage as they lay naked on his unmade bed. He was also, had she known it, more than a little insincere. Her sense followed the shoulders under his coat, down to where his flexible, sensitive-looking hand rested lightly upon the table. May I be permitted, as a very old and very dear friend of your lamented parent, whose loss I shall ever deplore, to ask you one question?" "Undoubtedly," replied Winifred. Throwing down the pencil, she snatched up a piece of India-rubber, and exclaiming,—"It isn't at all like him! it isn't half handsome enough!" was about to efface the sketch, when Thames darted into the room. He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him. Her clock had stopped—stopped at the very hour on which she had quitted the Mint! She had not the heart to wind it up again. " "Here he is!" cried Ireton, as the knocking was heard without. "Oh God!" exclaimed Jack, in a tone of the bitterest anguish. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. More importantly, she had her wits.
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