After occupying himself thus for the best part of an hour, he thought Jack must have given him the slip. “You are too good for me,” she said in a low voice. Don’t you think that the shade of my hair is lovely?” “There is nothing particular the matter with the shade,” Anna answered, “but it is not nearly so becoming as before you touched it. ‘And me?’ ‘Oh, you’re mad because you wish to blow off my head. Spurlock relaxed, suddenly, and sank deeply into his pillows. Promise me that you will not disobey the injunctions of her whose memory we must both of us ever revere. You have changed from the veriest butterfly to a woman—you wear different clothes, you have the air of another world. She would take this one back with her.
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