Manning,” she said, “I HAVE a confession to make. “You’ll be there, right?” She asked, hearing his breathing audibly jump. He stared at the woman depicted thereon for a long moment, awe in his head. He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced. They went down the great staircase of the building, and, while she sought in her mind for a beginning, he broke into appreciation of her simple dress and selfcongratulations upon their engagement. Kneebone. " The Wastrel laughed. To-morrow I am going to Paris.
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