’ He scratched his chin as if he thought about it, but covertly kept a careful study of what he could see of her face. A sacrifice. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes. “I wish they did,” he said, “but they don’t. 277 “I was beginning to think that I would never see you again, Lucy. ’ ‘It’s too late for that,’ Gerald told her evenly. ” “You are not yourself to-night, Courtlaw,” Ennison said. ” His lips tightened, and he frowned with solemn resolution. " All day long the phrase interpolated her thoughts. . " This she did carefully, but inwardly commenting that he was still in the realm of strange fancies.
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