White is proud of her drawing-room evenings. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. " "My mind's made up," rejoined Jack, coldly,—"we part to-night. ‘But with more courage in her little finger than in many another female’s entire body. It’s the sort of way a woman always does gloss over her ethical positions. And I want you for myself—for my wife. Besides ——” She stopped short. "I do," replied Thames, in the same tone; "we haven't a moment to lose. Jackson?" said Wood, significantly.
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