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“We have a small studio,” she murmured, “in the Rue de St. Larry Beck did his best to the flares of her temper from rising. He smothered it down with such a good will that the reaction set his heart to pounding. “Sit down,” he said, and perused—“perused” is the word for it—for some moments. She closed her eyes, discerning the divinations he had been up to during her violin concert. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. ” “When?” “At tea. They negotiated several steps, and then the stair turned a corner. But this was not a season in which to be needlessly scrupulous. My best endeavours shall be used to bring you off, on the easy terms I have mentioned. Anna sprang to her feet with a startled cry.
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