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"What shall we do, Poll?" hesitated Edgeworth Bess. She wished she had not stood up. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. The image did not move. Smith decidedly the plainest of the two. When he could find words, he tried by the most urgent solicitations to prevail upon the constable to let him out. “Nothing has happened to Mr.
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