She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. She wouldn't be able to pass by anywhere without folks turning their heads. “It’s unforgivable of me to call, Miss Stanley,” he said, shaking hands in a peculiar, high, fashionable manner; “but you know you said we might be friends. “I always notice that people find it very easy to believe what they want to believe, and you see I’m not in the least popular. It’s—Mrs. Sydney Courtlaw—Mr. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six.
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