He leaned towards her, laid his hand tenderly upon hers. And nothing to tell her where to begin. Submission to the inevitable carried her through the circumstances of her appearance before the magistrate. If the creator drew a hero anything like himself, she would accept it as a sign that he did care a little. She could not look at him through an interval that seemed to her a vast gulf of time. "Adorable girl!" he cried, in the most impassioned tone, and with the most impassioned look he could command. The impassivity of her features changed at last. ’ He became aware of his friend’s face before him. "Who isn't it like?" he asked, endeavouring to gain possession of the drawing, which, af the sound of his footstep, she crushed between her fingers.
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