" CHAPTER XI. His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient. She realized that he was the sort of man one does not think much about at dinners. It was noon when the caravan reached the tower of the water-clock. It is to take place to-night. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. ” “That will follow,” said Kitty Brett—“that will follow. Let me recommend a glass of wine. He moved to one side, bowing and gesturing to the door. But I'd a mind to try whether you really loved him as much as you pretended. He was nearly wincing.
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