All about her, hither and yon, lay the enticing Unknown. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. "I shall breathe more freely dere. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. One who—who—tres. He had the same dark eyes, though lighted by a fierce flame; the same sallow complexion; the same tall, thin figure, and majestic demeanour; the same proud cast of features. It was enough.
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