" "I should like to satisfy myself on that score," rejoined Wild, drily. But no matter how you phrase it, the end is the same. And for twelve years he has been so; until his long security, well-nigh obliterating remembrance of the deed, has bred almost a sense of innocence within his breast. "Auntie?" he cried. We shall see. Upstairs, in the little dressing-room, the panel was opened by means of tugging a small candlesconce in the wall. Generations had been born and died in between the times she had gotten laid. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. It would be the culmination of her plan. “What can I do?” “Go and see her.
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