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"I am—I am!" cried the widow, snatching the babe, and pressing it to her breast with rapturous delight "God be thanked, I have found it!" "We have both good reason to be grateful," added the lady, with great emotion. She felt he was going to say something more—something still more personal and intimate. His hands were exploring her once again in the car. Here you only waste your time. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. A sob was strangled in her throat. . She was caught by an uncle, whose opinion she valued, making faces at Roddy because he had exulted at this.

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