And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. "I've a good mind not to speak to you again, Sir!" cried Winifred, with difficulty repressing a tear of vexation; "you've acted unfairly. The girl was in the game now, and that narrowed the circle. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. . But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. ” “Please don’t let him know I’m here yet.
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