In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. Let us proceed with our tale. ToC "How do you mean to act, Sir?" inquired Trenchard, as soon as they were left alone. ‘That’s better. ” She leaned back amongst the cushions of her chair. He's an interpretative genius, if there ever was one. What was the objection? She found it impossible to look her own diffidence in the face. Yet every now and then, during the progress of the meal, his attention apparently wandered, and leaning forward he glanced covertly at Anna with a curious mixture of expressions on his face.
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