But when she learns that you are a fugitive from justice…. A pair of startled blue eyes looked up into his. The risk I run is nothing to yours. ‘Only you made me lose my temper, and—’ ‘I made you do so? Pah!’ Gerald at last succeeded in ripping the handkerchief from her grasp, and swiftly held it to her neck, oblivious to her now bloodied fingers clawing at his hand. The Reverend Henry Dolby performed the cermony, and his wife and daughter were witnesses. —'How so?' says I. ‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. "You are complimentary, Sir Rowland," returned the other, with a grim smile.
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