” “Oh, I might,” he answered, “have gone further still. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. The tired woman looked quietly at her. Quilt, meanwhile, came down, examined the door, and finding it unfastened, locked it with a bitter imprecation on his brother-janizary's carelessness. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. I——” She threw herself into an easy chair. Sydney Courtlaw—Mr.
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