” “A sort of history,” said Mr. But his grief was of short duration. ’ A panel slid open and she stepped into the relative light of the little dressingroom, Kimble close behind her. She had no intention whatsoever of spending her life in a convent, but that was not his affair. There was a girlfriend who was mentally ill. We felt like thieves. If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. "Whist!" exclaimed Terence; "he elevates his glim.
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