"Your sense of honor is too high for the nineteenth century, Mr.
Lawson; yet I would not have you otherwise."
The girl was mechanically picking to pieces the white petals of bright-eyed marguerites and strewing the ground beside her.
"You ruthless vandal! look at your work, Miss Montgomery," exclaimed a bright romping miss of fifteen, bursting upon them without regard to ceremony and pointing to the ground where lay the scattered petals.
"But it is romantic, you know; one always reads of some beautiful maiden picking roses to pieces to hide the state of her feelings."
"Thank you, Miss Laura, for your well-timed allusion, for Miss Montgomery and I have been romancing indeed," said Mr. Lawson, bowing to the young miss with an air of deferential homage.
"It will all come right yet," said Jennie, pressing her friend's hand with the tenderness of a sister.
The young man smiled sadly, murmuring: "'It will all come out right.' How those words seem to mock me—'it will all come out right.'"
CHAPTER XX.
SCENES AT THE GREAT METROPOLIS.
Mrs. Montague Arnold sat, or rather reclined, in her handsome breakfast-room. She was awaiting the morning mail, which had been somewhat delayed. A bitter smile played around the daintily curved lips.