The evening was warm and inviting, one meant to be spent outdoors. "In favour of my son. "The only disguise I ever put on is a dress-suit, and I look as natural as a pig at a Mahomedan dinner. Almost the last female to bear the name, too,’ muttered the old lady. ‘Hilary is a darling. It took my breath away. Her back arched and she felt herself instinctively sinking into him. He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which duplicity was agreeably veiled by good humour. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. These passers-by who touch us but lightly and are gone, leaving the eternal imprint! So long as she lived, Ruth would always remember that embrace.
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