’ A panel slid open and she stepped into the relative light of the little dressingroom, Kimble close behind her. "Ah! Owen Wood, is it you?" cried David in astonishment. You'll never be guided by me—never!" "Indeed, my love, you're entirely mistaken," returned the carpenter, endeavouring to deprecate his wife's rising resentment by the softest looks, and the meekest deportment. ‘How could I know that it is you?’ She peered at him in the darkness. The Widgett method of thought puzzled her weakly rhetorical mind. CHAPTER IV The tourists returned to the Sha-mien at four o'clock. . “I believe that he would bore me. There was a new softness in her eyes, a hesitation, a timidity about her manner which was almost pathetic. By the time he had reached St. She was never able to trace the changes her attitude had undergone, from the time when she believed herself to be the pampered Queen of Fortune, the crown of a good man’s love (and secretly, but nobly, worshipping some one else), to the time when she realized she was in fact just a mannequin for her lover’s imagination, and that he cared no more for the realities of her being, for the things she felt and desired, for the passions and dreams that might move her, than a child cares for the sawdust in its doll. Not the most stringent search, conducted all morning, turned up one solitary sheet.
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