" "Now for it," thought the woollen-draper, "I shall, at least, ascertain how the land lies. She recalled how she had stretched out her arms toward the magic blue horizon. The Palazzo was unlike anything she had ever known. He seemed to charge her with the ruin of their situation. ’ It is the Press who find her out. ” She wanted to feast upon him badly, his passion, his youthfulness. "You forgot your lunch," she said. "You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight. ” “I am not sure whether I feel inclined to scold or thank you,” she declared. "This locket," he said, taking a little ornament attached to a black ribband from his breast, and giving it her,—"do you remember it?" "I do—I do!" cried Winifred. .
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