” Lucy spoke up, “We used to call that ‘playing the coquette’. Shall we turn back?" "And disappoint Mr. “You didn’t expect that I should kiss you?” “How was I to know that a man would—would think it was possible—when there was nothing—no love?” “How did I know there wasn’t love?” That silenced her for a moment. Recovery impossible. Sheppard. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. ’ ‘In a somewhat roundabout fashion, if you ask me,’ came in a mutter from her old nurse, very much in her usual style. ” He paused, with his eyes studying her gravely. She confronted him with his own double-standard. That was the true marvel of it. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable.
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