I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. She gazed steadily out of the window at that arc of glittering lights. “I have not the least idea who he is. The door to the library burst open. “There is my aunt,” she said. "At all hazards then then you shall know the truth," replied the woollen-draper, in a tone of affected solicitude,—"but are you really prepared?" "Quite—quite!" replied Winifred. She was almost tempted to tell him, if only to see the cracks of surprise and incredulity break the immobility of his yellow countenance.
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