In the pause a door could be heard opening and closing on the landing up-stairs. For just as though a vague likeness is sometimes borne swiftly in upon one, so a vague dissimilarity between the face on the poster and the heroine of his thoughts had slowly crept into his consciousness. “We were bound to do this when you kissed me,” she sobbed through her tears. A short flight of steps brought him to a dark passage, into which he plunged. She remained by the door until the walls of the city swallowed the bobbing lantern. Nobody regards Constance or Vee as a delicate trifle.
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