Picked up the photograph, looked at it, handed it back, and never batted an eye! The act was as clear as daylight, but the motive was as profoundly mysterious as the race itself. The comments on the makeover lessened but were replaced by long admiring glances by boys who had never before given her the time of day. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. Gerald realised Lucy had taken the hint, for she dragged her betrothed towards the door. He had been very easy or she had been very lucky. CHAPTER III.
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