Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. ‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. While waiting for his coming she had stated her present and future relations with him with what had seemed to her the most satisfactory lucidity and completeness. “That’s. ” She looked down on him thoughtfully, and he let his admiration of her free young poise show in his face. Her first impulse was to fly to the window; and she was about to pass through it, at the risk of sharing the fate of the unfortunate lady, when her arm was grasped by some one in the act of ascending the ladder from without.
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