“I have hurt my father,” she said; “I have hurt my aunt. ” “Tut!” he said, fuming, and put out his hand to the papers in the pink tape. And experience was slow in coming. He stood by her side, and he suffered her hands to rest in his. The uncanny directness of those gray eyes, the absence of diffidence, the beauty of the face in profile (full, it seemed a little too broad to make for perfect beauty), the mellow voice that came full and free, without hesitance, all combined to mark her as the most unusual young woman he had ever met. “I love you, I always will. “You were booked of course.
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