It came again. The young lady with whom I was dining last night was Miss Anna Pellissier. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages. Day by day she followed the spiritual and physical contest between this man and woman. "Stay, dear Thames!—stay!" cried the little girl. "Judging from what you tell me, I've no doubt he's the illegitimate offspring of some handsome, but lowborn profligate; in which case, he'll neither have name, nor wealth for his inheritance.
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