“Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. “Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner. Occasionally the canvas snapped as the wind veered slightly. Impassive by nature and training, he was conscious to-night of a strange sense of excitement, of exhilaration tempered by a dull background of disappointment. She said that in the note. EPOCH THE SECOND. That had taken her by surprise, and her tired wits had failed her. "But, if I should not return, take this purse to Edgeworth Bess. I do forgive him; but he will never know now.
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