" "Do you think so?" replied Kneebone, taking it off, and placing it on her finger, which he took the opportunity of kissing at the same time; "wear it for my sake. I'm sure he'll do his best to content you. You're alone, too, child. ‘Go then. It is a lovely little appendage to the mother who smiles over it, and it does things quaintly like her, gestures with her very gestures. She shot a sudden glance at him. Was there no echo anywhere in Miss Stanley’s pacified brain? Those empty rooms, if they were empty, were the equivalents of astoundingly decorated predecessors. “Perhaps,” he queried, “you wish to avoid being seen about with any one—er— connected with the profession, under present circumstances.
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