"I don't think he would leave me, even if I could part with him," observed Mrs. Manning?” she asked. The evening was warm and inviting, one meant to be spent outdoors. " "Oh!" exclaimed the widow, covering her face with her hands. Don’t think it was anything better than fever—or a bit beautiful. So far, however, was this submission from producing the desired effect, that it seemed only to lend additional fuel to her displeasure. “I think she would,” she decided. She appeared not to have realised the implications of her outburst, but clung a little to Gerald’s hands which had taken hers in a comforting clasp. She has been a dear. ” “I believe you,” she murmured. “Dear me! I wonder what I ought to do. I had no curiosity of that kind.
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