A hand of iron fell upon the scowling young man’s shoulder. "The men. Annabel, come to the door with me,” she added a little abruptly. He was accompanied by a young man of about seven-and-twenty, who carried his easel, set it in its place, laid the canvass upon it, opened the paint box, took out the brushes and palette, and, in short, paid him the most assiduous attention. " "I'm not afraid, mother," said the little girl, smelling at the bouquet. “The plain common-sense of the case,” he said, “is that we can’t possibly be lovers in the ordinary sense.
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