come. " "I should like a little of that plum-tart," said Mrs. ’ ‘What? But—’ ‘Precisely, Hilary. Anything in the least irregular is like poison to him. . Even Blueskin looked on with anxiety. She could not stir hand or foot. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. " With this, she burst into tears, and sank with her face upon his shoulder.
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