The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. How did you like Tristan?” Ann Veronica paused the fraction of a second before her reply came. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. It was a mad half-hour. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. “My brother’s room when he comes home. "Captain Darren," he added, sternly, "you shall hear from me. “You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. Bravo!—the best cly-faker of 'em all couldn't have done it better. When Mr.
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