" "I'm not afraid, mother," said the little girl, smelling at the bouquet. "You're mistaken, Winny. They give themselves airs, but so it is. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. Enschede, to have starved his heart as well as Ruth's because, having laid a curse, he knew not how to turn aside from it! How easily he might have forgotten the unworthy mother in the love of the child! And this day to hear her voice lifted in a quality of anathema. She flared her upper lip, baring her canines which had extended by half an inch.
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