“Then turn round and go back there,” she directed. As I hope for mercy, I speak the truth!— let him deny it if he can. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you so badly,’ he said, still meeting her eyes, unaware that his hold about her hand had tightened a little. I will take you for thirty-five shillings a week. She had to make sure, for the peace of her mind, that this was really the man. “You know what? You’re right. To many in that crowded solitude it came as an extraordinary relief. Gerald caught the look and slipped the weapon into his pocket. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. CHAPTER XXIII.
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