“I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you. "No, Rollo; not this afternoon. "Come here," said the petticoated tyrant. The youth produced a crumpled-up card from his waistcoat pocket. She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. He was made welcome as McClintock's agent; but he politely declined all the proffered courtesies. As a net result she had come to think of all married people much as one thinks of insects that have lost their wings, and of her sisters as new hatched creatures who had scarcely for a moment had wings. All right, I’m coming. "Holloa—what's that?" cried Austin, starting up. .
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