. ’ ‘I presume you were not with her in France?’ Kimble stared. But she could tell by the dullness of his eyes that he saw only some inner vision. "I can't say I do," replied Wood. “Your father is in the study and wishes to speak to you. “Now isn’t this nice!” that lady exclaimed. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her. To-night I locked up my flat at six o’clock. She ought to have written at once and told him exactly what had happened. “But was it wise to sing to-night?” “Why not? The man was nothing to me. And now her father said she must not go.
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