Every breath she took was an unspoken gratitude.
"Do you see your sister often ?" she asked, as he handed her her cup of coffee.
"Often?
No, once a month perhaps." His lips shut tight, as though the question had been a plea that he should see her more frequently and he were determined to refuse.
"But why is that ?" she asked sympathetically.

"Doesn't she often come to Town ?" "Oh yes--most part of the year.

They've got a small house in Sloane Street, and live there all the winter." Sally looked at him with troubled eyes--troubled in sympathy because, with the quick wit of a woman in love, she had felt here the need of it.

His sister lived in Sloane Street--lived there for the most part of the winter, and he saw but little of her; yet he kept her miniature lovingly in his room.

If there is but one woman pictured on his walls, you may be sure a man rates her high.