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Rh ever have recognised her as the pretty, piquant chauffeuse so often to be seen perched behind her wheel in front of the big hotels.

There was no trace of impudence about her this day. Though happy, so far as one could see, she was very quiet, and there was a hint of wistfulness in her eyes. Poor little girl! Life had never brought her much joy, and I wondered, as I often had before, at her bright, brave heart, for the summer had been a hard one and most women would have been worn out and despondent; but Rosalie possessed an elastic strength—or fine mettle, one might better say—and the instant the strain was relaxed she flew back as straight and tireless as before.

Our eyes met—and all at once I realised my want of her and the deep, honest love I had come to feel for her. Rosalie's hand was resting on her knee, and I took it in mine and raised it to my lips.

"Rosalie, dear," I said, "I love you! Will you marry a reformed thief?"

She turned to me slowly, and one could see how delicately the colour faded in her lovely face. Her lips trembled, and the tears gushed into her eyes.

"Oh, Frank—you are sure you want me?" she said. "There is—no one else? You are sure, sure, sure?" "Nobody else, sweetheart—now or ever!" I answered, and gathered her into my arms.