Jack's nose was broad and flat; Darrell's straight and fine as that of Antinous. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. It was in another world from that in which men will die for a kiss, and touching hands lights fires that burn up lives—the world of romance, the world of passionately beautiful things. “Which one?” “The one whose life you have been making a burden, who has been all the time shielding her sister. ’ ‘Lucilla,’ gasped Hilary, his cheeks reddening with wrath.
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