Then making a pretence of stooping to rearrange her flowing train, she glanced at Anna, and half stopped in her progress down the room. This service rendered, without waiting for any farther order, she withdrew. She returned home to the Beck house soaked and soggy. As he looked around, he beheld an incessant stream of passengers hurrying on below. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes. “You will write to me, I am sure—and from the date of your letter I trust most earnestly that I may come back to my old place as “Your devoted friend, “WALTER BRENDON. She knew very well that a new thing was stirring in her. “You know,” he went on, “this doesn’t seem to me to end anything.
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