Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously. Lost, stolen, or strayed, the Young Person!. . She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. They were both conscious, however, that something had intervened between them. He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which duplicity was agreeably veiled by good humour. “But who could have lent you money?” “I pawned my pearl necklace. You have watched all the uncouth creations of my brain come sprawling out upon the canvas, and besides, we have been companions.
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