She turned towards the door, and had taken a pace towards it when it was flung open. A dull light shone through the open window blinds and softened the room with parchment yellowness. A constant attendant at court, he had the mortification to see every one promoted but himself, and thus bewails his ill-luck. ‘I said you were sympathique,’ she told him. "Won't you take these?" For a space he merely stared at her, perhaps wondering if she were real. We, ourselves, are scarcely the same we were twelve years ago. “I believe it is. To-night she had a curious feeling that she stood upon the threshold of some change.
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