” “Act two,” she continued. " "Make good your assertions," cried Trenchard, furiously, "or——" "To the proof," interrupted the stranger, calmly. She stood 218 there, broken bottle still in hand. She was ushered into the back of the squad car. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. At Anna’s words she seemed suddenly to stiffen. "You have always been, far dearer to me than myself," replied Mrs. "Then his case is hopeless. Do you know this, Sir?" he added, taking a key from his pocket. “I wonder,” she murmured to herself, “if this is the beginning. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. We aren’t worth it. ‘What Gerald wants with you has me beat. Shall we sit outside and drink a petit verre of something to give us an appetite while dinner is being prepared?” “Certainly not,” she answered.
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