Smith, "upon my conscience. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?. In a second the glass lay shattered upon the carpet. Thanks. But she was not there. He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, debonnair, good-looking. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be his restrained and dignified friend. As soon as she noticed the stranger, she honoured him with an extremely impudent stare, and scarcely endeavoured to disguise the admiration with which his good looks impressed her. If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path.
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