“I suppose, Mr. “He must never know,” she would whisper to herself, “he must never know. White rang the bell. In the rush of commuters he did not see her boarding his train. There would be no mercy in this man. That night in his den he smoked many pipes. As he anticipated, he was here comparatively screened from the fury of the wind; and when he gazed upon the roaring fall beneath him, visible through the darkness in a glistening sheet of foam, his heart overflowed with gratitude for his providential deliverance. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory.
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