He would pursue that little pastime on some other occasion. “Call me Cathy, John. "Go to lunch," he ordered Ruth. Nor, indeed, did she want to refuse. She brought the unconscious man down. She went about, intentlooking and self-possessed, trim and fine, concealing her emotions whatever they were, as the realities of her position opened out before her. “Go on,” he said. It keeps dangling in front of my eyes. She sat very still, and his eyes rested on that ornament for a moment, and then travelled slowly to her wrist and the soft lines of her forearm. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. Her sense followed the shoulders under his coat, down to where his flexible, sensitive-looking hand rested lightly upon the table. ‘Give me an opportunity to open my mouth, and I will. ?” she asked.
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