It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. I have gone without dinner for three nights, and—come in. There was Major Price—you must recollect him, Sir Rowland,—he stumbled as he was getting out of his chair at that very gate. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. " "Won't you go?" cried Jack passionately. Where her husband saw only two youngsters in the mating mood, she felt that tragedy in some phase lurked in this room—if only in the loneliness of these two, without kith or kin apparently, thousands of miles from home. Chapter XXIX MONTAGUE HILL PLAYS THE GAME The man opened his eyes and looked curiously about him. A. They could not have called it a fatal motor accident if he had not been dead. “I was sick of the make-believe. “Girls of sixteen do not need their own laundry hampers.
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