“You will be so good as to leave us your correct name and address, mademoiselle,” he said curtly. Ruth hugged the envelope and McClintock, with the end of a burnt match, drew a cabalistic sign. " Mrs. ’ ‘Poor little devil,’ said Gerald, genuinely sorry for her. She was aware of people—her aunt, her father, her fellow-students, friends, and neighbors— moving about outside this glowing secret, very much as an actor is aware of the dim audience beyond the barrier of the footlights. What of Gosse, whom those soldiers had allowed to escape? Hiding—or perhaps gone. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. . "Where is he?" he cried. You can if you will.
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