A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. So they fenced with smiles. Later in the evening she heard him whistling, poor man! She felt very restless and excited. Spurling had retired for the night. “Many nights I have thought of you, Anna. She saw how overworked he was. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. The fellow is little better than a lunatic. “Our interest lies in heading them off. To-night she had a curious feeling that she stood upon the threshold of some change. She savored the sweetness of his lips, all of his great youth and passion and longed for his innocence, his complete lack of the knowledge of terrible things.
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