His fears supplied him with unwonted vigour. ‘Silence,’ hissed a voice in French. E. “What have you done to yourself?” he muttered. He turned in at the club. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere. From under his pillow he dragged forth the key to the trunk. \" Michelle raised her hand in a gesture of High Five. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. ‘And nnever would you have f-found it. Wasn’t it—a little bit of a scene?” “Oh! let me see. ‘Precisely. A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. “That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. But it doesn’t alter the situation.
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