It was debauching, this—a devilish art which drew such strange allurements from a face and figure almost Madonna-like in their simplicity. “For me there is no second turn. ” She whispered. The violence of the collision nearly threw him backwards, and caused him to swerve as he sprang. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. He was waiting in the outer hall as she tiptoed in. "Good-b'ye!" And with a cordial shake of the hand he took his departure. Sheppard raised her eyes, and fixed them upon her interrogator. Gerald smiled and crooked his elbow. Sheppard, so that if the blow had been stricken she must have received it. In the afternoon she had considered certain doubts very carefully, and decided on a more emphatic course of action. "Where is he?" he cried.
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