Her faithful servant struggled, with her assistance, to rise. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. “And for me it has been Pride and Pride and Pride! “I am the prodigal daughter. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. S. Save us!" he cried, as his glance accidentally alighted on the drawing, which Winifred had dropped in her agitation.
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