“Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. “The thing I feel most disposed to say, Miss Stanley,” he began at last, “is that this is very sudden. ‘But I have told you. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. ” “I can’t imagine what makes you fly out against everything like this,” said Miss Stanley to her niece. To-day is for the sights; the other three days—lessons. Capes?” she heard her aunt saying. I’ll make any reasonable arrangement you like. Women are not in the world in the same sense that men are—fighting individuals in a scramble.
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