Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. Each one had been different from the others, each had had a quality all its own, a distinctive freshness, a distinctive beauty. " "I do not doubt it," retorted Winifred, scornfully; "because I attach credit neither to one nor the other. ’ Then he bowed, raising his hat in salute and, crossing to the coach, spoke briefly to its driver and leapt into it without looking back. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. Lucy finished Michelle off, leaving only a dry, unrecognizable husk.
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