At last, she breathed. As though accidentally she swept her skirts from a chair close drawn to her own. Her whole conduct and tone had been modest and ladylike. " "Hold!" interposed Winifred, gravely. “I think she would,” she decided. As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her. ’ ‘Oh, peste,’ exclaimed Melusine, and louder, ‘Where are you? Call, that I may find you. But I shall lose my wager if I stay a moment longer—so here goes. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control.
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