"My name is Darrell," said the fugitive hastily. She caught the fact that it was something more than strong drink that laid you out. Passing at a glance over the whole of the intervening period; leaving in the words of the poet, —The growth untried Of that wide gap— we shall resume our narrative at the beginning of June, 1715. "Fire! That was what drew me to you in the beginning. ’ Gerald tutted. She felt terribly modern, even sporty as the magazines declared you should be. What more is there to be said? She defies me!” It was extraordinary. “I was frightened then,” she declared. Darrell stood erect in the bark, with his drawn sword in hand, prepared to repel the attack of his assailants, who, in their turn, seemed to await with impatience the moment which should deliver him into their power.
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