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The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. " "As an honest Chinaman?"—taking out the offensiveness of the query by smiling. “What have I been all this time?” she asked herself, and answered, “Just stark egotism, crude assertion of Ann Veronica, without a modest rag of religion or discipline or respect for authority to cover me!” It seemed to her as though she had at last found the touchstone of conduct. She arrived about nine o’clock the next evening in a state of tremulous enthusiasm. Am I mistaken? Is your heart mine?" "It is—it is; and has ever been," replied Winifred, falling upon his neck. "That's it!" cried Wild when Trenchard concluded.
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