"Here's the door. She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. Sheila decided to do a little laundry one day, clothes that were in Lucy’s hamper, a dirty clothes bin that Lucy had insisted that she have for herself separate from the family one. She was to see Capes to-morrow, but now, in this state of misery she had achieved, she felt assured he would turn his back upon her, take no notice of her at all. The service had not proceeded far, when she was greatly disturbed by the entrance of a person who placed himself opposite her, and sought to attract her attention by a number of little arts, surveying her, as he did so, with a very impudent and offensive stare. The stranger looked at him as if strongly disposed to chastise his impertinence. ” “I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our lot. Now keep still. \" He said to her as he threw the gear into Park. ’ ‘You see, I am of them,’ she said seriously, ‘but not with them—yet. Has he not himself taken my daggers and my pistol and my knife? Alors, he has given me back my pistol and one dagger,’ she conceded conscientiously, ‘which is a very good thing. He made the universe on those lines. A wild passion of shame and self-disgust swept over her. “Those things are not for me just at present. The great untrodden world was before her still, into which no one can pass alone.
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