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"No offence, I hope, my dear Mrs. “There isn’t any way you could be worse than John. But, suppose I've no place to lock 'em up in, how then?" Quilt looked a little perplexed. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. He could not make good his hold. Byby. She thought of her costume in some detail and with considerable satisfaction, and particularly of a very jolly property dagger with large glass jewels in the handle, that reposed in a drawer in her room. " The Wastrel laughed.
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