"It is time!" "For what?" grumbled the latter, rubbing his eyes. Lightheaded, she threw up in the courtyard of the Palazzo as servants crowded her in alarm. The air was crisp and dry. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. He scratched his upper lip reflectively. She would never again be lonely. Why hadn't he admitted that he recognized the photograph? What instinct had impelled him swiftly to assume his Oriental mask? "Why?" asked O'Higgins. " "By my soul, no," replied Jonathan, with affected sincerity.
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