"Who've you got with you?" demanded the Amazon, boldly. His glances were hard to disguise as he scanned her periodically during class. What passed between them I cannot think—I dare not. Capes stood side by side upon an old Persian carpet that did duty as a hearthrug in the dining-room of their flat and surveyed a shining dinner-table set for four people, lit by skilfully-shaded electric lights, brightened by frequent gleams of silver, and carefully and simply adorned with sweet-pea blossom. It was explosive and gratifying. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. “I believe it is. Me—I’m nothing but a country wench, and one who went to the bad.
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