” “Please tell me why?” she asked. He allowed his voice to drip with sympathy. In the afternoon he probably loafs in his pajamas. This is a case either of suicide or murder. He embraced her, kissing her cheek, then her neck. To even presume a lustful thought about her was to ask for one’s own death. . “By-the-bye,” he said, presently, “your sister was married to old Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t she? I saw the notice in the papers. He began to tell me something—and stopped. Taking up a link, which was blazing beside him, he walked across the room; and touching a spring in the wall, a secret door flew open. She confronted him with his own double-standard.
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