“How has the world taken it?” he asked. “Never mind, old chap,” he declared. Her tone should have warned him, but he was too much in earnest to regard it. Particularly when it was obvious the fellow was one of these pitiful wretches weak enough to allow themselves to be ousted from their inheritances and thus obliged to come seeking succour of their neighbours. A distant suggestion of chalets and a glimpse of the road set them talking for a time of the world they had left behind. Mrs. He seemed to have expected them. A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY. His brows drew a little nearer together. “‘A SONG OF LADIES AND MY LADY “‘Saintly white and a lily is Mary, Margaret’s violets, sweet and shy; Green and dewy is Nellie-bud fairy, Forget-me-nots live in Gwendolen’s eye. ‘As I said, a mistake.
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