She was a merry creature, it is true, and quite beautiful. She put out her hands to avoid his embrace. It was open. "You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of hers was a slender reed on which to lean. It dawned upon him that he had been abominably used by Ann Veronica. In all other respects they differed as materially. Sheppard, passing her hands over his face, and gazing at him with a look that made him shudder. ’ ‘So that was it. Indignation carried her through that night, that men and the world could so entreat her. ’ For the moment I thought it was a telegram from Gwen. I'll cable to-night, and in a few days we'll have some news.
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