“I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. \"Thank you. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. “And, after all, I am just one common person!” She watched the throb of the arteries in the stem of her neck, and put her hand at last gently and almost timidly to where her heart beat beneath her breast. But this was but a momentary gleam of personal application, and at this time she followed it up no further. The boy she had loved was gone. And how could I come home—when he locks me in rooms and all that?” “I do wish this wasn’t going on,” said Miss Stanley, after a pause. ” “In the present case,” Drummond remarked, glancing across the room, “Cheveney wouldn’t permit it.
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