As if he read her thought, he spoke it aloud. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night. “I remember,” she said, “that the first night I saw you, you spoke of my sister as your friend. He had not considered this aspect of the business. Be seated, and calm yourself. The dismal tolling of St. ” He said wistfully. ’ ‘A convent?’ echoed Gerald with interest. ” She fought to keep her teeth from chattering. Why should he stare at her in this fashion?—for all the world as if she had pointed a pistol at his head? CHAPTER III He had said it, spoken it like that … his own name! After all these weeks of trying to obliterate even the memory of it!… to have given it to this girl without her asking! The thought of peril cleared a space in the alcoholic fog. The fibre of his soul had to be tested, queerly, to make him worthy of you.
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