"Do you not know me, father?" said the young man, advancing towards him, and warmly grasping his hand. It was Annabel’s. Hetty, looking out of the window—she always smoked her after-breakfast cigarette at the window for the benefit of the less advanced section of Morningside Park society—and trying not to raise objections, saw Miss Stanley going down toward the shops. His figure was slight, but well-built; and, in stature he did not exceed five feet four. He classified her as he seated himself. This is no place for me. The young lady—if she had come in here at all—had vanished. He would have to sit down here in Canton and wait, perhaps for weeks. "Are you not that man's mistress?" demanded Mrs. “I was never so clear in all my life as I have been in this business.
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