"My mother!—my poor mother!" ejaculated Thames, falling on his knees, and bursting into tears. ‘I escape from a fate entirely misérable, you understand. It is I who took the burden of your misdeeds upon my shoulders that you might become Lady Ferringhall. I came to London to look for you, and somehow the figure I saw in my dreams had got mixed up with you. “Why should one pretend?” she whispered. Something tells me I am rushing on greater danger. Earles waiting. “Mr. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. If he recovers he may not accuse her.
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