“I am not in need of any. ’ ‘Poor little devil,’ said Gerald, genuinely sorry for her. The lips of the mask twisted upward into a smile. "Leave me to my fate," rejoined Jack. She would be haunted by the visions of their mad faces in her dreams for the next hundred years. Fancying they were alone, Sir Rowland threw aside his cloak, and produced a heavy bag of money, which he flung upon the table; and, when Wild had feasted his greedy eyes sufficiently upon its golden contents, he handed him a pocketbook filled with notes. “I’m going to kill your weakness for you. ” She said mournfully.
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