Perhaps she had found this new thing in life, the thing wonderful. Who is the other?” “What other?” Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. Here she would find candy awaiting her, bits of ribbon, books. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. For hats that fail and hats that flare; Toppers their universal wear; A man scores always, everywhere. He carries with him something that will mark him anywhere—the girl. Before our marriage there will be no life between you and the estates. When he was done she kissed his cheek tenderly. Somewhere in the world there was a book clerk with a discerning mind; for he had given her the best he had. She twisted her fingers tightly.
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