Ah Coom. Hitherto she had seen it chiefly in pictures and other works of art, incidentally, and as a thing taken out of life. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. The uncanny directness of those gray eyes, the absence of diffidence, the beauty of the face in profile (full, it seemed a little too broad to make for perfect beauty), the mellow voice that came full and free, without hesitance, all combined to mark her as the most unusual young woman he had ever met. “No, I am alone,” she answered. Never bought a shirt in my life, Mr. For a time she could scarcely believe he was gone. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?. Be off!" "Jack!" exclaimed his unhappy parent.
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