They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. "Raise your vice, and lave off coughin'," added Terence. Against the sinister, the threatening, monstrous inhumanity of the limitless city, there was nothing now but this supreme, ugly fact of a pursuit— the pursuit of the undesired, persistent male. I had to sell out, you see, when my father died, for the estate is in my hands. Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once.
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