"Pish!" exclaimed Hogarth. How could she tell him of the evil that drew her and drew her, as a needle to the magnet?—the fascinating evil that even now, escaped as it was, went on distilling its poison in her mind? "Yes, yes!" said the doctor. ” “Lady Ferringhall! Anna!” he exclaimed. It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. For a time they were very difficult.
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