Though the girl was so deathly white and spiritless, it soon became clear that she was going to pull through. With each day, a little more colour and a little more commonness came back to her. And Gyp felt instinctively that she would, in the end, return to Fulham purged of her infatuation, a little harder, perhaps a little deeper.

At that lash of the whip, Summerhay turned and said: "It pleases you to think the worst, then?" Gyp stopped the movement of her fingers and looked round at him. "I've always told you you were perfectly free. Do you think I haven't felt it going on for months? There comes a moment when pride revolts that's all. Don't lie to me, PLEASE!" "I am not in the habit of lying." But still he did not go.

The wild melancholy in that swaying wood was too much for Gyp; she ran, thrusting her feet through the deep rustling drifts of leaves not yet quite drenched. They clung all wet round her thin stockings, and the rainy wind beat her forehead. At the edge, she paused for breath, leaning against the bole of a beech, peering back, where the wild whirling wind was moaning and tearing off the leaves.

Stoner sat in frowning silence while the argument raged, but he broke in finally: "I've always wanted to pull a real salting job, just to show how easy it is to gyp the cagy ones not an oil-can job like this, but something big. This looks like the piscological moment." "Lay off, I tell you!" McWade cried.

Gyp gave one swift, backward glance up the secret stairway to the haunted tower room. "No no! Well, let's shout together." They shouted and shouted, with all the strength of their young lungs. But Old Crow, who really was Mr.

Presently, seeing her mother in the porch, she jumped up, and crying out: "Ossy Ossy! Walk!" rushed to Gyp and embraced her legs, while the old Scotch terrier slowly followed. Thus held prisoner, Gyp watched the dog's approach. Nearly three years had changed her a little.

IT was but half-past four the next morning when Dinah, tired of lying awake listening to the birds and watching the growing light through the little window in the garret roof, rose and began to dress herself very quietly, lest she should disturb Lisbeth. But already some one else was astir in the house, and had gone downstairs, preceded by Gyp.

"Oh, yes; please. It would have been better if he could have seen the dance properly, wouldn't it? What will he think?" Gyp smiled, and opened the door into the lane. When she returned, Fiorsen was at the window, gazing out. Was it for her or for that flying nymph? September and October passed. There were more concerts, not very well attended.

Ah me, there is no anguish so keen, so deadly, as the anguish of awakened shame! With unspeakable anxiety Kennedy awaited Brogten's departure. Why should he be so long? Surely he must be telling Mr Grayson. At last the heavy step was heard, the door opened, and the gyp once more announced that Mr Grayson was disengaged. Pale and almost breathless, Kennedy went into the room.

Fiorsen bent down and clutched her by the shoulders. "My Gyp! Kiss me!" But even while his lips were pressed on hers, she felt rather than saw his eyes straying to the garden, and thought, "He would like to be kissing that girl!" The moment he had gone to get his things from the cab, she slipped out to the music-room. Miss Daphne was dressed, and stuffing her garments into the green linen bag.