" "My mind's made up," rejoined Jack, coldly,—"we part to-night. Thames," she urged, "the errand, on which you're going, can't be for any good, or you wouldn't be afraid of mentioning it to my father. ‘Would you have me face my maker with that on my conscience? If I’d died, there’d have been no one to tell you, for your father would not have done. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words. Ann Veronica felt suddenly an effect of tremendous pathos; she would have given anything to have been able to frame and make some appeal, some utterance that should bridge this bottomless chasm that had opened between her and her father, and she could find nothing whatever to say that was in the least sincere and appealing. It takes too many years to climb even a step in the social ladder. Annabel, I was lying. Chairs were overturned. Gold-handled, too. She's my mealticket. Did he not look for her in the morning when she entered—come very quickly to her? She thought of him as she had last seen him looking down the length of the laboratory to see her go. She distinctly shivered as he forced her to look at him. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about.
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