The mother held to a hope that the great change of circumstance would insensibly turn Olga's thoughts from her reckless purpose; and, for the moment, Olga herself seemed happy in self-forgetfulness.
The man to whom she had plighted herself was named Kite.

He did not look like a bird of prey; his countenance, his speech, were anything but sinister; but for his unlucky position, Mrs.Hannaford would probably have rather taken to him.

Olga's announcement came with startling suddenness.

For a twelvemonth she had been trying to make money by artistic work, and to a small extent had succeeded, managing to sell a few drawings to weekly papers, and even to get a poor little commission for the illustrating of a poor little book.

In this way she had made a few acquaintances in the so-called Bohemian world, but she spoke seldom of them, and Mrs.Hannaford suspected no special intimacy with anyone whose name was mentioned to her.