"Come to me!" cried the poor maniac, who had crawled as far as the chain would permit her,—"come to me!" she cried, extending her thin arm towards him. Why ain’t you gorn? Seems to me I had ought to arrest you. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy. But from the rest—you saved me. . ’ His face changed, all the humour and tenderness leaving it in an instant. Jack fell on his knees beside her. I wouldn’t recommend doing anything. Good riddance to bad rubbish. But, by Jove! you are fierce! You are like those Roman women who carry stilettos in their hair. He was picked up from amongst the wreckage of a broken motor on the road to Versailles last night, and we have information that a lady was with him only a few minutes before the accident occurred.
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