What is done cannot be undone. She doubted how she stood toward him and what the restrained gleam of his face might signify. At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty. He saw the colossal selfishness of his act; but he could not beg off on the plea of abnormality. "Good night, Master. " "'Ouns!" ejaculated Terence, in alarm, "would you turn snitch on your old pal, Quilt?" "Ay, if he plays a-cross," returned Quilt.
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