The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. “Nothing has happened to Mr. I can't spare you at present. She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. It was below consciousness, elusive; so he sent out a call to his friend, defensively.
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