It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. “It is no good playing a game. She winked at him as he shut the door. The Protestant Flagellant, who whipped his soul rather than his body, who made self-denial the rack and the boot, who believed that on Sunday it was sacrilegious to smile, blasphemous to laugh! Spurlock had gone back spiritually three hundred years. Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there. "I didn't imagine for a moment that you'd accept it, but I thought it right to make you the offer. Have you anything to tell me before you go?” Annabel laughed lightly. ’ She shook her head sadly. . "You'd better surrender quietly, Jack," he cried; "you've no chance. Pipes were lighted; and Mr.
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