” “In Paris, I think,” Ennison answered. John turned toward the short staircase as she alit upon the first creaky step. ” She looked up at him, and found he was watching her closely. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. " "So that is what separated us! Oh, Hoddy, you have wasted so many wonderful days! Why didn't you tell me?" "I couldn't!" He made as though to draw away, but her arms became hoops of steel. She savored the sweetness of his lips, all of his great youth and passion and longed for his innocence, his complete lack of the knowledge of terrible things. A delicate flush of colour streamed into her cheeks.
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