‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield. One post-midnight meeting, she could stand it no longer. . She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. He saw the girl, and sprang up in bed. The knowledge breathed into her heart a satisfying warmth. For a time she could scarcely believe he was gone. Earles that I was ‘Alcide,’” Anna remarked quietly. And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend. It can wait a bit longer.
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