” “Oh, well!” he said, a little doubtfully, “it’s just a phase,” and bent down and rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment, with his heart beating and his nerves a-quiver. "Miss Enschede—such an odd name!—are you French?" "Oh, no. On the other hand, there was a subconscious impression that she would be able to read instantly anything unclean in a man's eye. “You were really at Moulton House,” she exclaimed penitently. They did not speak until he had driven past town limits and were on the highway.
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