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’ Then she ran swiftly out of the library, calling out as her cavalier was almost at the front door. Already the seed of a tender dream was stirring. She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames. "For what?" "I had the paper with me. Through all this flutter of novelty there came and went a solicitous, preoccupied, almost depressed figure. I thought then perhaps you didn’t care, that you were like so many of them. Happy Thanksgiving. But women—women as a rule don’t throw themselves into things like that. That it provided proof of the girl’s identity was one thing. A skeleton was propped against the mantelpiece.
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