A strange man; rather interesting.
I've a good mind,' she added mischievously, 'to send him a photograph.' 'Of yourself ?' 'Oh dear, no! He wouldn't care for that.

A view of the Alt-Stadt.' And in her mood of frolic she acted upon the thought.

She purchased two or three views, had them done up for post, and addressed them to Harvey Rolfe, Esq, at the Metropolitan Club; for his private address she could not remember, but the club remained in her mind from Sibyl's talk of it.

When the packet was gone, of course she regretted having sent it.
More likely than not, Mr.Rolfe considered himself to have ended all acquaintance with the disgraced family, and, if he recognised her handwriting, would just throw the photographs aside.

Let him; it mattered nothing, one way or the other.
When a week had passed, the novelty of things wore off; the friends began to wander apart; Miss Steinfeld made acquaintances in the _pension_, and Alma drifted into solitude.