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" "Is this true, Sir?" cried Mrs. ” Her breath left her for a moment. "So I did," retorted Mrs. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. “Call me Annabel. They had asked her to come to the first of the two great annual Fadden Dances, the October one, and Ann Veronica had accepted with enthusiasm. "Come Bess,—no whimpering. Enschede's daughter. “I am not dependent upon any one. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. I'm an old hand at such things. "Thank Heaven! I'm not basely born. Visiting? Dressed for it, certainly. "That's odd.
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