" "Yes, there was one," observed Ireton. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. "I've been deceived by false information. He picked her up outside her last period Ceramics class. Boys, at the time of which we write, were attired like men of their own day, or certain charity-children of ours; and the stripling in question was dressed in black plush breeches, and a gray drugget waistcoat, with immoderately long pockets, both of which were evidently the cast-off clothes of some one considerably his senior. Ennison listened, and he forgot where he was. To the poor carpenter it seemed an endless distance. " "Not if it will hurt her. ” He saw her into the train at Waterloo, and stood, a tall, grave figure, with hat upraised, as the carriage moved forward slowly and hid him.
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