"Or, what would be much worse, any of our friends."
CHAPTER XXVI.
"A single stream of all her soft brown hair
Poured on one side.
* * * *
Half light, half shade,
She stood, a sight to make an old man young."
—Gardener's Daughter.
Thrusting her little bare feet into her slippers, she takes up a candle and walks softly down the stairs, past the smoking and billiard-rooms, into the drawing-room, where the paper has been left.