The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold. Evidently her foresight has saved me a funeral. ‘Mademoiselle. "Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence. Well, I don't think they'll any of 'em nab him, that's one comfort. “You would be wise to loosen your purse-strings, Gianfrancesco. “Why should one pretend? “Think of all the beauty in the world that is covered up and overlaid. “Hey, Mike.
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