’ ‘Don’t be too sure,’ said Miss Froxfield darkly, with a mischievous glance at her betrothed. She fixed her brilliant eyes upon him. . He never appears to so little advantage as when speaking of him. "Where is he?" asked she, in an agitated whisper. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. Why may I not be your friend? Somehow or other I feel that you have been driven into a false position. There was nothing in his manner to suggest the misery of the preceding night. ” “Why?” she asked. Don't worry about me.
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