"What shall we do, Poll?" hesitated Edgeworth Bess. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. " CHAPTER XIX. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. "The Dawn Pearl," he said. From the first there had always been between her and her listeners that electrical sympathy which only a certain order of genius seems able to create. “Of course,” said Miss Miniver—she went on in a regularly undulating voice —“we DO please men. We can be married tomorrow in Paris.
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