” Tears flowed down her face. “It will spoil your life. To-night I locked up my flat at six o’clock. ‘Who’d believe me? And I’d have to tell my part in it all, too. He had little money about him, and unless friends come to his aid he must be treated as a pauper. We were expecting rather to find a male antagonist. He'd have enough to do to protect himself, without attending to you. I don’t want any laws or freedoms to protect me from a man like Mr. I thought that he was dead. But you must tell her. It was from Brendon. What!— you know so little of that child? She ran away from you. You do not believe me. " "Bring your story to an end, Sir," said Trenchard who had listened to the recital with mingled emotions of rage and fear. .
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