From this singular collection Trenchard turned to regard its possessor, who was standing at a little distance from him, still engaged in earnest discourse with his attendant, and, as he contemplated his ruthless countenance, on which duplicity and malignity had set their strongest seals, he could not help calling to mind all he had heard of Jonathan's perfidiousness to his employers, and deeply regretting that he had placed himself in the power of so unscrupulous a miscreant. He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. Peste, where was her handkerchief? She remembered then that it had been lost in the struggle with Gerald. She was practicing with them on that very day, and displaced a rather mediocre boy violinist who claimed “to be better at the viola anyway” as first chair. A chain, riveted to an iron belt encircling her waist, bound her to the wall. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow.
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