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"Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. You have betrayed me. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. A sacrifice. I don’t care if you never tell me any of your secrets. ” Lady Ferringhall sat with half closed eyes and clenched teeth. Capes stood side by side upon an old Persian carpet that did duty as a hearthrug in the dining-room of their flat and surveyed a shining dinner-table set for four people, lit by skilfully-shaded electric lights, brightened by frequent gleams of silver, and carefully and simply adorned with sweet-pea blossom. This was enough for the poor widow. Martin’s crush. I must!” She threw open the door and pointed to it.
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