” “You gave it him well. He had been on the point of leaving the restaurant. " "My dear," said the hospitable carpenter, "I dare say Mr. ” Her answer was terse. We were alike. "He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. On searching the coat, he found, amongst other matters, a mask, a key, and a pocket-book. “We must go. Did you warn Frith?’ ‘Yes. You mustn’t go clawing after a man that doesn’t belong to you—that isn’t even interested in you. One who—who—tres. And not a worthy tome in sight. “You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried.
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