Spurlock dove headlong at the other's legs, toppling the man. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. Relief flooded her. Darrell's eyes were of that clear gray which it is difficult to distinguish from blue by day and black at night; and his rich brown hair, which he could not consent to part with, even on the promise of a new and modish peruke from his adoptive father, fell in thick glossy ringlets upon his shoulders; whereas Jack's close black crop imparted the peculiar bullet-shape we have noticed, to his head. “Gods!” cried Ann Veronica, and kept him standing. “I don’t mind, of course, your seeing her sometimes, still there are differences— differences in social atmospheres.
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