‘Alors, I see it. "Intruding!" echoed Mrs. She often found herself absorbed by watching the tall grass undulate from the cave’s central doorway as solitary hunters prowled for buffalo and stag on the plain. Winifred listened to his narration with the profoundest attention; and, when it concluded, her tearful eye and throbbing bosom told how deeply her feelings had been interested. She fell into a pleasant dream of positions and work. “Fearful old fogey! I can’t imagine any sister of yours putting up with him for a moment. After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. ” Her eyes glinted, macabre.
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