Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table. One post-midnight meeting, she could stand it no longer. " "Not now—not now!" she returned, with a shudder. “What year was 221 that, about 1350?” He asked in wonderment. Even there a woman never gets a fair chance. Just as he had arrived at the mouth of the drain, and Jack felt certain he must be discovered, a loud shout was raised from the further end of the field that the fugitive was caught. She is a fortune-teller and a vessel for man’s pleasure. Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. CHAPTER XI.
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