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" "My mind's made up," rejoined Jack, coldly,—"we part to-night. So, why did you slam the door in John Diedermayer's face?\" Lucy did not look at her, but cocked her head skyward. "Put it under my pillow," he said. What might it have been?’ Mrs Sindlesham shook her head helplessly. Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world. You have watched all the uncouth creations of my brain come sprawling out upon the canvas, and besides, we have been companions. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. " "Off!" she exclaimed, breaking from his embrace with a scream. This time there wasn't any doubt. It was not a hopeful looking group. There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau. [Illustration: Distinctive Pictures Corporation.
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