She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. The darkness was almost palpable; and the wind which, hitherto, had been blowing in gusts, was suddenly lulled. The by now familiar dramatic sigh came. Her hair touched water, becoming like the seaweed in its velvet slickness. . Prior to the great adventure, her mirrors had been the still pools in the rocks after the ebb. The lips of the mask twisted upward into a smile. . "My little Hoddy! You used to love me; and I have always loved you. Love—admiration for your matchless beauty alone sways me. Afterward she wanted to get her letter to her father back in order to read it over again, and, if it tallied with her general impression of it, re-write it. “Perhaps,” she said, “it is the London climate.
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