Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. “You hear him?” he remarked, looking impressively around. \" She fibbed. "I have him!" cried a voice in triumph. He picked up the broken fiddle and beckoned. His face will be all I need. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. " "I will yield it to no one but its mother," answered Wood. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter.
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