“Are you speaking to me?” she asked calmly. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. " He departed, musing. They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door. ‘I’m on your side. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. The door crashed back against the wall inside and both men hurtled into the room, weapons at the ready—and stopped dead. “The rarefied air? I thought you had a better head. ‘Well, sir, if I’ve to choose betwixt him and you, I’ll take you, no question.
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