She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. works. He appeared suddenly from the infinite in the neighborhood of the Burlington Arcade, crossing the pavement toward her and with his eyes upon her. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. Just as he reached them, the Comte de St Erme drew Valade a little apart and began to converse with him in rapid French.
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