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And, though neither peace nor innocence can be restored to my bosom; though tears cannot blot out my offences, nor sorrow drown my shame; yet, knowing that my penitence is sincere, I do not despair that my transgressions may be forgiven. She colored faintly. ‘Could she have been a spy, after all?’ ‘Oh, she’s not a spy,’ Gerald answered, almost absently. Now if she sent fifteen pounds the suggestion that she had spent a five-pound note in the meanwhile would be irresistible. E. Some day I'm going to paint her; but that will be when I've retired. His tongue was more ready, his wit more keen than usual.

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