“Never. ’ Miss Froxfield intervened quickly as her betrothed showed signs of erupting again. ‘Jacques, do not die while I am gone. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. “Tell him to drive—anywhere,” she exclaimed. "But to the point," continued Wild, unconscious of the peril in which the remark had placed him,—"to the point. You are not unlike Pandora. His wife's portrait had been removed from the walls, and the place it had occupied was only to be known by the cord by which it had been suspended. “You love some one else?” he repeated. “My dear Miss Stanley, when I talked to you the other afternoon of work and politics and such-like things, my mind was all the time resenting it beyond measure.
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