‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "a letter, beginning 'dearest Aliva,'—that's your mother's name, Thames. The stranger turned his head at the sound. The first set of occupations seemed to her to be altogether too domestic and restricted; for the latter she was dreadfully handicapped by her want of experience. To-night she had a curious feeling that she stood upon the threshold of some change. And there was that dress of hers! She must be warned that she had been imposed upon.
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