“But your hair,” he gasped. For awhile he watched the revolving light on Copeley's. Manning’s handwriting, and opened his letter and read some lines before its import appeared. It’s no half reform either. “Why destroy me, child? There are so many secrets I 231 could tell you. We were worried. But I don’t wish to hear that abomination on her lips again. ‘But you know. “Do you understand what I am talking about? It’s no good if you don’t. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. The next few hours will tell. 'But I don't desire to spoil sport,—not I. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners.
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