“Ritter’s!” said Ramage to the driver, “Dean Street. ’ ‘They? How many are there?’ ‘Oh, peste. " "Why, surely you don't think your guests would steal them," observed Rachel, archly. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. "A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband.
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