Suddenly, she heard the crunch of new feet on the gravel. She hated tricking Shari, whose joy for life was the only thing that made her naive enough to fall for laced iced tea or hot cocoa, depending on the season. “What’s the objection?” “I suppose she ought to know?” said Gwen to her mother, trying to alter the key of the conversation. The poor boy, whose hands were pinioned behind him, looked very pale, but neither trembled, nor exhibited any other symptom of alarm. Her momentary instinct was to run to him and be comforted, like the old times. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. From the centre of the ceiling hung a replica of the temple lamp in the Taj Mahal.
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