“She has lost something,” he declared, “something which brought the men in crowds around the stage at the ‘Ambassador’s. "Perhaps you don't know that this Darrell so contrived matters, that your child should be mistaken for his own; by which means it had a narrow escape from a tight cravat, I can assure you. Sheppard in the asylum, and take her this, and send her that;—and I've never prevented you, though such mistaken liberality's enough to provoke a saint. Their colloquy was ended abruptly by the apparition of Miss Klegg at the further door. “Of course,” he ventured, “I could try for more at the ‘Alhambra. She grew perhaps a shade paler, and she glanced out into the street, where her four-wheeler cab, laden with luggage, was still waiting. You are all that I am or hope to be—the celestial atom God put into me at the beginning.
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