” “That’s the comfort of you. "I am not, by Heaven!" replied Sheppard, firmly. She packed her things, then ran a mile to Julian’s apartment. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. Hetty, looking out of the window—she always smoked her after-breakfast cigarette at the window for the benefit of the less advanced section of Morningside Park society—and trying not to raise objections, saw Miss Stanley going down toward the shops. "In case he should consent—" "He never will," interrupted Winifred. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. "Who are you?" inquired Mrs.
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