Ethel had known Dick; she was a friend of George's, and, no doubt, in regular communication with her brother in Canada.

It was possible that she might allude to Sylvia's doings when she wrote; but there was some consolation in remembering that George was neither an imaginative nor a censorious person.
Sylvia had spent a delightful week in her new surroundings, when she descended the broad stairway one night with a shawl upon her arm and an elegantly bound little notebook in her hand.

A handsome, dark-haired man whose bearing proclaimed him a soldier walked at her side.

Bland's glance was quick and direct, but he had a genial smile and his manners were usually characterized by a humorous boldness.

Still, it was difficult to find fault with them, and Sylvia had acquiesced in his rather marked preference for her society.