And at length her penultimate day in Morningside Park dawned for her. “The unaccountable thing is that I wouldn’t go home to please her. "You are complimentary, Sir Rowland," returned the other, with a grim smile. He answered with the greatest assurance, that he knew nothing whatever of the matter—had seen no pocket-book, and no associate to give up. "But to drag this innocent child into the muck! With her head full of book nonsense—love stories and fairy stories! Have you any idea of the tragedy she is bound to stumble upon some day? I don't care about you. The same old lines and verses, over and over, until there had come times when shrieking would have relieved her. “Well, you certainly did very well at tea,” she remarked. An uncomfortable silence followed.
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