’ Taking the chair she had indicated with a careless wave of one stiff-fingered hand, Gerald felt hope burgeoning. It was past seven when she got back to her hotel. But, on the bursting of that bubble, his hopes vanished with it. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. Every window in the public house was filled with guests; and, as in the case of St. Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. Will you?” She thought, and it seemed to him she had never looked so self-disciplined and deliberate and beautiful. He, however, made no remark at the time, but instantly prepared to set out.
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