Throwing down the pencil, she snatched up a piece of India-rubber, and exclaiming,—"It isn't at all like him! it isn't half handsome enough!" was about to efface the sketch, when Thames darted into the room. At least for one moment, it was. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. She recoiled. She is English! I am sure of that. Courtlaw stood up. "There'll be a louder echo here presently," thought Jonathan. Did you see Lord Delafield and Miss Anderson? They packed me in with Colonel Anson and Mrs. I thought one had only to take it by the throat.
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