The jealous burn at his eyes subsided and his finger came up. The contest, however, though desperate, was brief. . She tried to imagine the collective effect of the Fadden Ball; she had never seen a fancy-dress gathering in her life. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. "Good-b'ye!" And with a cordial shake of the hand he took his departure. From the first there had always been between her and her listeners that electrical sympathy which only a certain order of genius seems able to create. "Won't you be persuaded, Joan?" he added, making a similar offer to Mrs. She shrank from him as he gripped her hand more forcibly.
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