The poor boy, whose hands were pinioned behind him, looked very pale, but neither trembled, nor exhibited any other symptom of alarm. Seldom they molested a woman who appeared to know where she was going and who kept her glance resolutely to the fore. She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf. "To paint your portrait," answered the jailer. She got a bun and some cocoa in the little refreshment-room, and then wandered through the galleries up-stairs, crowded with Polynesian idols and Polynesian dancinggarments, and all the simple immodest accessories to life in Polynesia, to a seat among the mummies. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. But it looked as if the boy was not going to be of much use. What was to happen now? She turned to Roding quickly. " "But, Mr.
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