Peste, where was her handkerchief? She remembered then that it had been lost in the struggle with Gerald. She answered in whispers, for there was the white arm of a woman in the next box peeping beyond the partition within a yard of him. At the threshold of the study he bade her good-night; but he did not touch her forehead with his lips. "Oh God! she is dying," exclaimed Jack in a voice suffocated by emotion. "You play?" asked McClintock, who was sorting the rolls. "Do not endanger yourself on my account," rejoined his mother. Murder had become nothing to her.
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