Oh, _thank_ you, Miss Hinsdale!--No, Mr.Swift, it is quite impossible--I'm so sorry.

Cousin, the music is commencing; this is ours." As she took Meredith's arm, she handed her flowers to a gentleman beside her with the slightest glance at the recipient; and the gesture and look made her partner heartsick for his friend; it was so easy and natural and with the air of habit, and had so much of the manner with which a woman hands things to a man who partakes of her inner confidences.

Tom knew that Harkless divined the gesture, as well as the identity of the gentleman.

They started away, but she paused, and turned to the latter.
"Mr.Macauley, you must meet Mr.Harkless.We leave him in your care, and you must see that he meets all the pretty girls--you are used to being nice to distinguished strangers, you know." Tom put his arm about her, and whirled her away, and Harkless felt as if a soft hand had dealt him blow after blow in the face.

Was this lady of little baffling forms and small cold graces the girl who had been his kind comrade, the girl who stood with him by the blue tent-pole, she who had run to him to save his life, she who walked at his side along the pike?
The contrast of these homely scenes made him laugh grimly.