“Now, Veronica,” he pleaded, “Veronica, this is most unreasonable. "That's it!" cried Wild when Trenchard concluded. At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated. Her senses were prickled when she felt a new pair of eyes upon her. A little within stood a second door, or rather wicket, lower than the first, but of equal strength, and surmounted by a row of sharp spikes. I don't care how soon he learns that he has lost his adopted son. Only I wish—I wish to-day I was a thousand times, ten thousand times more beautiful. What is it? Good God!” An unhappy little smile parted her lips.
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