Bravo!—the best cly-faker of 'em all couldn't have done it better. Even in his fevered hours, so the girl had said, his tongue had not betrayed him. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. The cold air gave her gooseflesh under her red brocade dress as she slipped outside. I'm an old hand at such things. John did not see her until the last period. There was still in his heart that fierce anger which demands physical expression; but he had to consider Ruth in all phases. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. “Miss Pellissier,” he said, “these gentlemen are your friends, and therefore they are my friends.
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