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It was debauching, this—a devilish art which drew such strange allurements from a face and figure almost Madonna-like in their simplicity. Her heart ached; and that puzzled her. Anna sat quite still for a moment, and then the colour suddenly returned to her cheeks. All at once he saw a way out of the threatening doldrums. “Here’s something rather good,” he said, and with a start and an effort she took his place at the microscope, while he stood beside her and almost leaning over her. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. Wild," he added, as Jonathan came up, and assisted him to secure and disarm the prisoner. "But don't wait for me, Sir Cecil.
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