"Here we part,—perhaps for ever. "You don't recollect me, I presume?" premised the stranger, taking a seat. Rollo barked. I expect company. "But we must be getting along if we are to lunch in the tower of the water-clock. ” Like most men who lie but seldom, he lied well. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. What a girl of sixteen cares for is hair and a high color and moonlight and a tenor voice. Why should they be? She and Ramage were friends, very good friends.
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