"A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. They reached Wimbledon, and Ramage whipped out to hand Miss Stanley to the platform as though she had been a duchess, and she descended as though such attentions from middle-aged, but still gallant, merchants were a matter of course. Wood's advice and assistance, but the thought of the reception she was likely to meet with from his wife deterred her from executing this resolution. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. “You may go on with that work,” he said, “so long as you keep in harmony with things at home. And you don’t know what led to our separation. " "Never!" cried Mrs.
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