"You've but a sorry lodging, Mrs. Altogether different. "If I were so, I should not be here," returned Trenchard. As absurd as that you take this interest in my affairs. You are my prisoner, murderer. Larry Beck did his best to the flares of her temper from rising. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. You need only answer me truthfully and you have nothing to fear. His gaze dropped to the black garment that covered her. She fought the inclination for a while, then surrendered.
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