’ Her flesh crept. "Forgive me—oh, forgive me!" "Forgive you—bless you!" she gasped. ” “I suppose we are,” said Vee, rearranging the flowers in her hand. 14, Dexter Street, Westminster, she found was not a house but a yard in an obscure street, with big gates and the name of Podgers & Carlo, Carriers and Furniture Removers, thereon. The theme was a masquerade. I HAD to. “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. It was Jack, wasn’t it?’ ‘Aye, s-sir.
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