At every step he seemed to be haunted by the ghost of the past. ‘I take it that you like this great-niece of mine?’ ‘One cannot help but do so. . ” She took his hand, interrupting him. " "That likeness is the chief cause of my misery," replied the widow, shuddering. Flattened flowers aren’t for the likes of us. To-night the subtle suggestiveness of those few daring lines, fascinating in their very simplicity, the head thrown back, the half-closed eyes—the inner meaning of the great artist seemed to come to him with a rush. "What do you want fot that coat, friend?" asked Jack, as he came up.
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