Then to the Dean's Head, in St. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. “See you to-night, I suppose?” He sauntered off. The Goopes were the oddest little couple conceivable, following a fruitarian career upon an upper floor in Theobald’s Road. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. But at the word “home” she turned again. To-morrow he might be sorry; but to-day, this hour! She rose, not quickly, but with a dignity which only accentuated her beauty.
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