I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest. "I am sorry. "Done!" cried Shotbolt. She had paid her bill, and she had enough left in her purse to pay many such. Her heart ached; and that puzzled her. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. ‘And me, I am a lady. The Closing Scene. Some day, when the rewards of literature permit the arduous research required, the Campaign of the Women will find its Carlyle, and the particulars of that marvellous series of exploits by which Miss Brett and her colleagues nagged the whole Western world into the discussion of women’s position become the material for the most delightful and amazing descriptions.
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