“I believe,” he said slowly, “that I shall do best to throw myself upon your consideration and tell you the truth. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. . On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. I have suspected him of possessing a skeleton key to my apartments. Wood fared still worse. That won’t involve references, as a bank account would—and all that sort of thing. But the five per cent. ’ A strangled sob escaped her as his thumb dug cruelly into the soft flesh of her wrist. I wonder how it is,” she added, “that boys always make love so impertinently. “You may go on with that work,” he said, “so long as you keep in harmony with things at home. ’ ‘Don’t start arguing again, for God’s sake,’ snapped Roding irritably, dragging out his own large pocket-handkerchief.
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