What is it you’re after? Money, I suppose. Mrs. " "They may find me. “Perhaps,” he said, “I have been to blame. ‘I thought it must be you,’ cried the woman. It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand. "I was going to die, Hoddy!" she whispered. "Yes, Auntie! And to date you have cost me precisely sixteen thousand dollars— hard earned, every one of them. ” “Is it necessary,” he said, “for me to tell you——” “Stop, please,” she said firmly. She listened, her suspicions confirmed. Ennison, or any other young man. .
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