‘Eh bien?’ She thrust again, from the same place. ’ She paused, struggling for the word. To-morrow I am going to Paris. “It is the same man, Annabel,” she said. Such stories were increasingly heard in English society. But not a word to him of Lady Trafford's absence—mind that. Ramage, that iron-gray man of the world, appeared dressed in a bowler hat and a suit of hard gray, astride of a black horse. So absorbed was she by her passionate supplications that she was insensible to anything passing around her, until she felt a touch upon her shoulder, and heard a well-known voice breathe in her ear—"Mother!" She started at the sound as if an apparition had called her, screamed, and fell into her son's outstretched arms. The coolies proceeded at a swinging, mincing trot, which gave to the suspended seat a dancing action similar to that of a suddenly agitated hangingspring of a birdcage. She had worried in fear that the excitement would be too much for him. "To me?" gasped Winifred.
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