It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. ” “Dear me,” Anna laughed, “how unfortunate! What ought I to do? Should I be forgiven, do you think, if I were to go and hold that skein of wool for the old lady in the yellow cap?” “Don’t speak of her irreverently,” Brendon said, in an awed whisper. She gathered stones to place upon the makeshift grave. Sheppard, in a voice of agony. " "You, Miss Enschede?"—frankly astonished that one stranger should offer succour to another.
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