was stretching her hand towards him, and who now cried out, joyously,
"Oh, Mr. Verrian, I thought it must be you, but I was afraid it wasn't as
soon as I spoke. Oh, I'm so glad to see you; I want so much to have you
know my mother--Mr. Verrian," she said, presenting him.

"And I you mine," Verrian responded, in a violent ellipse, and introduced
his own mother, who took in the fact of Miss Andrews's tall thinness,
topped with a wide, white hat and waving white plumes, and her little
face, irregular and somewhat gaunt, but with a charm in the lips and eyes
which took the elder woman's heart with pathos. She made talk with Mrs.
Andrews, who affected one as having the materials of social severity in
her costume and manner.

"Oh, I didn't believe I should ever see you again," the girl broke out
impulsively upon Verrian. "Oh, I wanted to ask you so about Miss
Shirley. Have you seen her since you got back?"

"No," Verrian said, "I haven't seen her."

"Oh, I thought perhaps you had. I've been to the address that Mrs.
Westangle gave me, but she isn't there any more; she's gone up into
Harlem somewhere, and I haven't been able to call again. Oh, I do feel
so anxious about her. Oh, I do hope she isn't ill. Do you think she
is?"

"I don't believe so," Verrian began. But she swept over his prostrate
remark.

"Oh, Mr. Verrian, don't you think she's wonderful? I've been telling
mother about it, and I don't feel at all the way she does. Do you?"