She was ushered into the back of the squad car. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. The arrival of la tante Prudence late next day had changed all this, it is true. "Mother!" cried the son, "help!" "What is this?" shrieked Lady Trafford, raising herself on the couch, and extending her hands towards him. “Not a bit of it. ” “Then I,” she said, “have too much character. “I trust you altogether. ‘There is little I can do at present.
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