She could not say a word, much less move. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. ” “Why do you think so?” she asked. The picturesque scoundrel had the true gift; and Spurlock was filled with pity at the thought of such genius gone to pot. A species of vertigo seized him. Every now and then she fingered an ornament, moved a piece of furniture, or rearranged some draperies. He stood transfixed. ’ Gerald turned and came back to her.
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