A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. She felt it would save explanations if she did not state she had left her home and was looking for employment. But if only you will come I do not care. She remained for a few moments standing as though listening to his retreating footsteps. Wood in the deepest mourning. He barely shook the rose petals from her hair. "There, he's as safe as Jack Sheppard in the Condemned Hould," laughed the man. Kneebone will excuse you. Good-bye, for the pressent—ha! ha!" And, laughing loudly at his own facetiousness, he quitted the Lodge.
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