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As the janitor padded away to the domestic portion of the basement to fetch his smiling wife, Griffin added to Patricia, "They're an awfully good sort. You don't mind, do you?" "Um! He lub you. He told ole Dido so." Miss Jinny gave her husky chuckle..

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Mrs. Dallas was about to speak, when the negress silenced her with a look, and raised her head proudly. "Maybe Bruce will let Margaret work with me sometimes," she murmured joyfully. "I know he's going to like Griffin tremendously; she's just the sort to fit in with us all. Miss Jinny's crazy over her. I don't believe we'll see poor Doris Leighton again. Griffin told me she was leaving." His attitude at this moment was rather displeasing to his friends. He refused to permit anyone to see the chamber whence the body had been stolen, and even declined to discuss the matter or accept advice as to the best thing to be done. To all who spoke to him--and these were many--he had but one reply. The girl was about twenty years of age, tall and straight, with dark hair and darker eyes, with a mouth veritably like Cupid's bow, and a figure matchless in contour. With her rich southern coloring and passionate temperament--she was of Irish blood on the paternal side--Miss Dallas looked more like an Andalusian lady than a native of the English-speaking race. She had all the sensuous loveliness of a Creole woman; and bloomed like a rich tropical flower with poison in its perfume amid the English briar roses of Surrey maidenhood..