John, he was between me and the door. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. It was like pouring a strong acid over dulled metal. “Your mother was a Gypsy. It was not the arrival of the guests, but merely the maid moving about in the hall. What his head conceived his hand executed. ] CHAPTER XI The second call energized her into action. Never sent for the shirt. “Tell him to drive—anywhere,” she exclaimed.
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