After the dance, they went to a party. She tucked the mission Bible under her arm, and crooking a finger at Rollo, went forth to the west beach where the sou'-west surge piled up muddily, burdened with broken spars, crates, boxes, and weeds. He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side. "I am utterly lost. ” “You are wonderful!” she murmured. Other things came. It was fortunate that by this time Winifred had so far recovered, as to be able to afford her father the best and only solace that, under the circumstances, he could have received,—her personal attentions. The same teardrop bust, the same long waist, the same thick legs.
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