Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. How I wish I might meet this delightful mystery lady of yours. “Go it, miss!” cried one. All that he had sown that afternoon with such infinite care was as nothing compared to this seed, cast without forethought. To-night the subtle suggestiveness of those few daring lines, fascinating in their very simplicity, the head thrown back, the half-closed eyes—the inner meaning of the great artist seemed to come to him with a rush. Monsieur is going inside perhaps?” But Sir John’s eyes were still riveted upon the poster, and his heart was beating with unaccustomed force. Prudence attacked her chicken wing. ’ Gerald gazed at her without expression.
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