" "Thank God for that!" cried Wood, heartily. Women are hypocrites to the last—true only to themselves. ’ He did as she bid him, and was very soon rewarded by the discovery of an oval miniature, encased in gold. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. Still he looked hale and hearty, and the country life he led had imparted a ruddier glow to his cheek. Did he act to you that day as if he knew what he was doing?" "Not all of the time. During that period she has been a model of propriety. “Touch a hair on his head and you will insure that I will never make love to you again. “I’ve got—I have to tell you this to make myself clear—a streak of ardent animal in my composition. He was tall, slender, and suave. Come along, master. You owe what I have done for you, to him, not to me.
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