Upon leaning back, he commented, “You look so sad. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. He looked the boy over with interest. "What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. She tested the limits to see how far 79 she could go, often running away for the day, causing him to fret and pace. "But to the point," continued Wild, unconscious of the peril in which the remark had placed him,—"to the point.
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