clothes for a girl of seven. At first he was told that the necessary
garments could not be furnished, when discussion revealed the fact that
a nearly complete, diminutive wardrobe, especially ordered from Paris
and neglected by the customer, was to be had. In a surprisingly short
while a sentimental saleswoman had apparelled Eunice in black velvet
with rows of small bows and gold buckles and a lace collar, cambric
pantaloon ruffles swinging about her ankles, a quilted pink satin bonnet
tied, like those of her elders', with a bow under her right cheek, and a
muff and tippet of ermine. Other articles--a frock of rose gros de
chine, with a flounced skirt, a drab velvet bonnet turned in green
smocked silk, and sheer underthings--he ordered delivered at Sanderson's
Hotel.

The effect of what laudanum Eunice had taken faded, and her lethargy was
replaced by an equally still, incredulous amazement. She followed Jasper
Penny about with the mechanical rigidity of a minute sleepwalker. They
went into a jewelry store beyond, with a square low bow window and white
trimming, where he purchased a ring with a ruby, and small gold
bracelets with locks and chains. His restless desire was to clothe
Eunice in money, to overwhelm her with gifts; yet, although an evident
delight struggled through her stupefaction, he failed to get from the
expenditure the release he sought. A leaden sense of blood guiltiness
persisted in him. At Parkinson's, the confectioner opposite the State
House, he bought her syllabubs, a frozen rose cordial and black cake. On
leaving, he paused at the marble steps with a lantern on either side and
awning drawn out over the pavement, considering the next move. It should
be toys--a German doll, slate and coloured crayons and jumping-figures.
Then he took her back to his rooms at the Hotel.

Sitting in a stiff crimson chair opposite him, the doll clasped in