Wood rest till he brought the villains to justice. She was not afraid exactly, but there was that about her loneliness to-night she distrusted. Old and dilapidated, the widow's domicile looked the very picture of desolation and misery. " Mr. Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. "What would you like most in this world?" he asked. Here was one of those Americans who would make him breathless before sundown. The world, perhaps, will be educated out of its idea of fixed standards. He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him. "Fool!" he cried, "do you think I wouldn't have secured you before this if I hadn't some motive for my forbearance?" "And that motive is fear," replied Jack contemptuously. “It is possible, mademoiselle,” he said, “that this affair is not yet ended.
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