Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. ” The conversation hung for a moment. Listen, it is I. That Capes should love her seemed beyond the compass of her imagination. Manning would on no account do, though he was tall and dark and handsome and kind, and thirty-five and adequately prosperous, and all that a husband should be. Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. But the objects in his range of vision remained unchanged. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion.
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