When she confessed all this to her charge, telling the now grown up babe that there was no hope in the world of establishing any claim, she very soon discovered her mistake. Wood, sinking into a chair, and fanning herself violently,—"what a fluster you have put me into with your violence, to be sure! And at the very time, too, when you know I'm expecting a visit from Mr. Ruth stared thoughtfully at the waiting coolies. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. She took the piece of paper and unfolded it in the safety of her lap. He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere. “Who, me? I scare you?” He asked. At the cost of quite a number of torn drafts she succeeded in evolving this: “DEAR MR. It towered up high above the level of the pass, thousands of feet, still, shining, and white, and below, thousands of feet below, was a floor of little woolly clouds. “Don’t you think I ought to?” she asked, very submissively. "Yes!" interrupted Spurlock, savagely. Before he even glanced at the man on the floor he stepped over to her side and took the poker from her.
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