He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. Only I wish—I wish to-day I was a thousand times, ten thousand times more beautiful. Sheppard, passionately,—"he has my boundless gratitude, and devotion. Lucy pinned her hair off her neck and hoped it would make her to look decidedly older. So many things she saw that her interest stumbled rather than leaped from object to object. The hansom drove off. Lucy clasped her hands over her ears as it screamed. I wonder what men would say if we threw the mask aside—if we really told them what WE thought of them, really showed them what WE were.
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