"Good-day, my dear little woman."
CHAPTER XXXV
MISS CLARY
Mercedes trembled and shrunk away, although the possessor of the small white hand was a charming young girl.
A pretty little head with ash-blond hair, deep blue eyes and fresh red lips made Miss Clary Ellis—that was the name of the eighteen-year-old girl—a very beautiful picture, and the sergeant drew back respectfully, while Mercedes said:
"Good-day, my darling—always joyful, always happy."
"And you are always sorrowful, and have tears in your eyes. Better take me for a model, who, as a consumptive, have far more reason to be melancholy than you have."
"I am waiting," said Mercedes, sorrowfully, "for him, and he will surely come if he lives."