He laid her on their old bed and kissed her from head to toe. "What motive have you for concealment?" he demanded. ‘You are a born rebel, ma’am, and I can see now where she gets it from. “I hope,” said Miss Stanley, with dignity, and turned doorward with features in civil warfare. ’ Then she jammed her hat on her head all anyhow and ran from the room. "Haven't I seen you somewhere before?" "The first day you came. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. He heard the struggle on the landing, the fall of the heavy body, the groan,—and excited almost to frenzy by his fears, he succeeded in forcing open the door. "You are," replied Kneebone. No, none at all. .
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