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"My name is Darrell," said the fugitive hastily. ’ ‘Then what?’ demanded Lucilla in a hushed tone. They confronted each other, barely feet apart, neither apparently any longer aware of anyone else in the room. No window. The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple. “My friend,” she said, “I have been your pupil for two years. Beauty doesn’t mean, never has meant, anything—anything at all but you. " "Mr. "And, oh! forgive me, though I can never forgive myself, for the misery I have caused you.
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