Stanley allowed his paper to drop a little, and scrutinized the hats and brows of their three fellow-travellers. "But I can guess what it's for. ” He glared at Martin. The loneliness of the place somewhat depressed her. The struggles of the wounded man were desperate—so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood. ” “Many other people,” she remarked, “have made the same mistake. At least, you are one, and I am disguised like one.
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