Before he could make the thrust, however, he was seized behind by Ireton, who flung himself upon him. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her. "What motive have you for concealment?" he demanded. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. " "And who is its mother?" asked Jonathan, in an eager whisper. Giles's was lined with spectators.
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