The party, then, sat down to a bowl of punch; and, at its conclusion, Captain Kneebone regretted that an engagement to spend the evening with Mrs. She bolted awake in the large bed which was awash in a sea of silks, furs, and red curtains. ” “It isn’t precisely faults,” said Ann Veronica. . He thanked God for this talent of his. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. " "We shall expect you to-morrow," insinuated Mrs. "Sit down, fool!" "Jack," said Kneebone, who had been considerably interested by the foregoing scene, "are these regrets for your past life sincere?" "Suppose them so," rejoined Jack, "what then?" "Nothing—nothing," stammered Kneebone, his prudence getting the better of his sympathy. In and out of consciousness she sailed, hearing voices from memory that she could not distinguish from reality. Best assured of that. He stood up, apparently intending to put an arm about her, but she stepped back from him quickly. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. Besides, she will do no such thing.
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