His clothes were smartly pressed, his linen white, his jaws cleanly shaven; but the day would come when he would grow indifferent to bodily cleanliness. Julian had been working his way through college at a factory and was close to graduation. He put down his hat and umbrella, rested his hands on his hips, and regarded Ann Veronica firmly. Spurlock's vision was oddly of the past. “I really had not thought about it at all,” Anna answered smiling. His figure was slight, but well-built; and, in stature he did not exceed five feet four. Impassive by nature and training, he was conscious to-night of a strange sense of excitement, of exhilaration tempered by a dull background of disappointment. That she was provoked by his interference was obvious. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. “A nice time of anxiety you’ve given me, young lady,” he said, as he entered the room.
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