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THE VANITY BOX

treuse was not walled in. It was a mere green setting which added charm to the house. There were flower beds all round, back and front, under the verandah, and the rest was lawn, intersected by a few paths, and furnished with three or four cheap rustic seats where scarcely any one ever chose to sit. Nora walked to the seat farthest from the house, which was placed behind the shelter of a small buttress of rock, over which nasturtiums ran in gay riot.

The sky was sown with stars, otherwise the night was dark, and when Nora had sat down on the seat behind the rock, trees and bushes even at a short distance were blurred in shape, forming mere masses of black shadow. She was sure, however, that Ian Barr would find her, and he did, three minutes before the time appointed.

Neither spoke at first. The young man held out his arms, and the girl slipped into them. Still in silence she lifted her face, and he kissed her.

"Darling—precious darling!" he murmured.

"Oh, Ian," she breathed. "It's like Heaven to be in your arms again. The first time since—that awful day."

"Still, to have seen each other is something," he said. "It has been much to me. You can't realize how much."

"Yes, I can, by what I feel myself," she answered in a low, soft voice.

"These last three days have been worth years of life," he whispered.

"Yes—years of separation," she said. "But Ian,