Too late. “I will come—with pleasure,” she said, “if you will promise to treat me as a new acquaintance—not to refer to—Paris—at all. " "Yes, there was one," observed Ireton. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. The smell that emanated from the opening was abominable. She must not show anything. There was now a girl in the picture, so it seemed. If he could keep it up—style and calibre of imagination—within a year the name of Taber would become widely known. He—he has rather a poor opinion of his contemporaries.
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