“It was poison—why not?” she answered. ’ Melusine hit lightly at his chest. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. "There, he's as safe as Jack Sheppard in the Condemned Hould," laughed the man. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. "The poor things!" The manager laughed. She gasped with pain, but she did not release her grip. In this moment he could have stamped upon the Wastrel's face, and ended the affair; but all that was clean in him, chivalrous, revolted at the thought. "To-night you shall be my wedded wife.
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