“Dreadful women, my dear!” said Miss Stanley. He sent a speculative glance at the immobile yellow face. The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard. You don’t know, Anna, but when one is in danger one realizes that the— the other side of the line is Hell. "Ah!" he exclaimed, as the painting was turned towards him. In a few minutes, an appalling change was perceptible. Suddenly he understood what had happened. ’ The lady looked unexpectedly smug.
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