He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. He deserves none. Only she sent me a message, and together we found a cottage for her to stay at. Brown or Jones, I dare say. These women could not be bad, else the hotel would not have permitted them to enter! Still, the scene presented a riddle: to give immunity to the black women who went about all but naked and to damn the white for exposing their shoulders! She had eaten but little; all her hunger had been in her eyes—and in her heart. “So is Mr.
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