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"You aren't going to bring her here?" she queried, a faint flush of shame at the selfishness of her speech creeping into her cheeks.,

She met Billy toiling up the front step with a long piece of rusty iron gas-pipe, which took off an inch of paint as it bumped against the doorway. She bent down and kissed the back of his neck, which theft was almost more than I could stand and apparently more than Billy was prepared to accept.,

Elinor laughed helplessly. "I don't know what is the matter with my brain," she said in relieved contempt of her own confusion of mind. "Of course, it is ever so much easier. What a stupid I am not to see it for myself!",

"He's an awfully good sort, if he is queer and stubby," she said, pausing to hide her parcel beneath her stand until the propitious moment.

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He walked meditatively down to the gates, and here, on the high-road, his thoughts led him to a sudden conclusion respecting the coming conversation with Miss Dallas. Without much consideration he retraced his steps rapidly, and sought out David in his room. Then and there he asked him a question which was of vital importance.,

Patricia took the bit of canvas board, and held it at arm's length, squinting at it with eyes that gradually brightened.,

"Bah! I heard that in court.",

He was tall, he was thin, with a dark, lean face, and fiery watchful dark eyes. For three years he had been wasting his talents in the neighboring town of Deanminster; when, if intellect were in question, he should have been shouldering his way above the crowd of mediocrities in London. The man was dispassionate, brilliant and persevering; he had in him the makings not only of a great physician, but of a great man; and he was wasting his gifts in a dull provincial town. He was unpopular in Deanminster, owing to the absence of what is termed "a good bedside manner," and the invalids of the cathedral city and Hurstleigh, for he had patients in both places, resented his brusque ways and avoidance of their scandal-mongering tea parties. Also he was a mystery; than which there can be no greater sin in provincial eyes. No one knew who Etwald was, or whence he came, or why he wasted his talents in the desert of Deanminster; and such secret past which he declined to yield up to the most persistent questioner, accentuated the distrust caused by his sombre looks and curt speeches. Provincial society is intolerant of originality.