" "I will try to do so," replied the widow, forcing a smile. Her fingers closed upon it instinctively. “Suppose I chuck it,” she remarked, standing with the mauve slip in her hand —“suppose I chuck it, and surrender and go home! Perhaps, after all, Roddy was right! “Father keeps opening the door and shutting it, but a time will come— “I could still go home!” She held Ramage’s check as if to tear it across. But the survey was satisfactory, and she found herself presently in Room No. Using the shirt, she cleaned away the blood. A bumper round, gentlemen. “I am sure,” she said, “that you mean to stay until you are turned out. Heaven knows what dim and tawdry conceptions of passion and desire were in that blond cranium, what romance-begotten dreams of intrigue and adventure! but they sufficed, when presently Ann Veronica went out into the darkling street again, to inspire a flitting, dogged pursuit, idiotic, exasperating, indecent. You go home and wait a century, Vee, and then try again. Not a word passed between them.
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