” “But why is one face beautiful and another not?” objected Ann Veronica; “on your theory any two faces side by side in the sunlight ought to be equally beautiful. . The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. To her, marriage would be a buckler against the two evils which pursued her. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely. By instinct. She lifted her shoulders in an eloquent shrug.
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