"Come! I see the storm has blown over," cried Winifred, brightening up. She formed a wild resolution, and, lest she should waver from it, she set about at once to realize it. She opened her eyes. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. He meditated, and began a new paragraph. “I think that you were inquiring for Mr. ” He shook his head, and threw open the door of a great dimly-lit apartment on the ground floor. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. Wood. ” “You asked your father for a reason!” Miss Miniver repeated.
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