Her interest grew as she read, a certain distaste disappeared. Too close, he reasoned, for safety. She took it up in her many-ringed hands and read it judicially. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood. “I doubted my luck, at least. ” The hand lingered too long. Oh, and weeks and months of thought and feeling there are bottled up too. “Your great success has been my joy, our joy as well as yours. She tried for her usual confident tone, but only succeeded in sounding gruff, even to her own ears. “My name is certainly Pellissier,” she said, “but I am very sorry—I do not recognize you in the least. ‘Then I don’t advise you to visit Remenham House. I wish to prevent a repetition of any such errand as I presume you have come here upon this evening. And that confounded engagement!” “Gone!” They came upon a platform, and stood before her compartment. “Yes?” he said. .
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