” “You—you did what?” Anna exclaimed. She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. “Neither you nor I, Nigel, are made of such stuff,” she answered. ‘What do you do here?’ demanded the young lady, moving to meet him. His first reaction had been explosive as the hurts of the past rose up to taunt him. We had better have it over. “Exceptionally so. She was standing there, smiling at the audience as at her friends. The crown has passed from the brow of one monarch to that of another. Now you can understand why every minute is a torture to me. His interest was divided: while his ears drank in the sounds, his glance constantly roved from Ruth to the performer and back to Ruth. The conflict was of short duration; for Shotbolt was no match for his athletic antagonist. .
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