. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. She regarded him coldly, as though wondering whether he had anything further to say. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. ‘I am not a fool. Hope reared. ’ ‘Oh, a ruin,’ exclaimed Mrs Sindlesham, throwing up a hand. ’ He scratched his chin as if he thought about it, but covertly kept a careful study of what he could see of her face.
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