She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. I am tired, and I want to be alone. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. . ’ The eyes flashed momentarily. He now understood her interest in Taber, as he called himself: habit, a twice-told tale. “I think everything’s right,” said Ann Veronica, with the roaming eye of a capable but not devoted house-mistress. “Yes. ” Ann Veronica felt a slight embarrassment. He looked around, and as he heard that deafening shout,— as he felt the influence of those thousand eyes fixed upon him,—as he listened to the cheers, all his misgivings—if he had any—vanished, and he felt more as if he were marching to a triumph, than proceeding to a shameful death. But his glance roved, to the door through which Ruth had gone, to Enschede's drooping back. “Idiots!” she said, when she heard this pandemonium, and with particular reference to this young lady with the throaty contralto next door. Gregory B.
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