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"We caught our first view of Bruce Haydon here—remember, Norn?" said Patricia, happily consuming her entrée. "Wouldn't it be fun if we'd run across someone else this time?",

"I don't think so; it wouldn't be legal," answered Arkel. "The only chance of getting the negress to confess to the whole truth is for either you or I to gain possession of that stone.",

"Mrs. Carter," he said very kindly, in a voice that pitched me out of the carriage window and left me a mile behind on the rails, all by myself, "I wish I had known of your sad errand to town, so that I could have offered you some assistance in your selection. You know we have just had our family grave in the cemetery finally arranged, and I found the dealers in memorial stones very confusing in their ideas and designs. Mrs. Henderson just told my mother of your absence from home last night, and I could only come up to town for the day on important business or I would have arranged to see you. I hope you found something that satisfied you.",

Men are very strange people. They are like those sums in algebra that you think about and worry about and cry about and try to get help from other women about, and then, all of a sudden, X works itself out into perfectly good sense.

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"But that is ridiculous," said he. "The commission of a crime presupposes a motive. Now what motive had Dido to kill your friend?",

Patricia smiled at Elinor's fervid response and Judith's calm approval, but she uttered never a word, though Bruce looked at her inquiringly.,

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.,

"Hannah Ann will be awfully proud, too," said Judith, thoughtfully. "She's regularly wrapped up in Elinor, because she's so much like Aunt Louise, she says."