To-night she had a curious feeling that she stood upon the threshold of some change. " "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. “After all,” he said, “I am not sure that you are not a very material person. I mean that it doesn’t interest you in itself. He had diverged only a little from the truth when he said that his chief interest in life was women. Sir Montacute had three children—two daughters and yourself. Why may I not be your friend? Somehow or other I feel that you have been driven into a false position. . ‘Not if I heard him aright.
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