"Aye—to pretend to her that you don't care. At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. “You may find in it a paragraph of some interest to you. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. Lucy, would you like to be my date for the silly little dance they call the Junior Prom?\" There was a pregnant pause as she digested the information. CHAPTER XI. The figure of the girl upon it in plain black dress, standing with her hands behind her, was an undeniable and astonishing likeness of herself.
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