His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. "Ah!" he exclaimed, as the painting was turned towards him. I felt his heart. She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment. They all left the room. "Well, Sir?" cried the other, eagerly. “To be an actress,” he said, “you require a special and peculiar temperament. ’ ‘That is what you think? Eh bien.
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