” “You will shake hands with me, please,” she begged. Oh! thank you—thank you! I'm so happy!" "Stop, Winny!" he answered, gravely; "I haven't promised yet. He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. It was warm, shielding, comforting, and what was more, full of understanding. "Well, Mr. He’s a footman who works for the nuns and has taken up the cudgels on her behalf. Unless he has dealings with the devil, he could never have done this alone. I don't know; I really don't know," she found herself repeating. Her gaze flickered down to his pistol. The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. CHAPTER II.
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