He had at once begun to tell him of the hanging of the Shoreditch murderer, as recorded in the evening papers.

Mr.Stone's reception of that news had still further confirmed his original views.

When all the guests were gone--with the exception of Mr.and Mrs.Stephen Dallison and Miss Dallison, "that awfully pretty girl," and the young man "who was always hangin' about her"-- he had approached his hostess for some quiet talk.

She stood listening to him, very well bred, with just that habitual spice of mockery in her smile, which to Mr.Purcey's eyes made her "a very strikin'-lookin' woman, but rather---" There he would stop, for it required a greater psychologist than he to describe a secret disharmony which a little marred her beauty.

Due to some too violent cross of blood, to an environment too unsuited, to what not--it was branded on her.