She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. "Mine died while I was over here. She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least. Lost, stolen, or strayed, the Young Person!.
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