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XVI. A Surrender.
MAY BEVERLY was not given to the study of her own countenance. She knew, of course, that it was a creditable production of Nature, that she had good features and pretty coloring and that her fellow-creatures, as a rule, seemed to like her looks. Beauty had not stolen upon her unawares as the case is with so many young girls. She had always been pretty, with the unquestioned, outspoken prettiness of a graceful animal or a bright-hued flower. She took it for granted, as she did those other gifts, of health and youth, and, on the whole, she gave it very little thought.
It was therefore the more remarkable that she should have just been spending a good half-hour before the looking-glass. She had the room to herself this after-
