Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. I might have known it. “H’m!” he said, regarding the wreckage with a calmer visage. Hogarth, didn't I see you last night at the ridotto with Lady Thornhill and her pretty daughter?" "Me!—no, Sir," stammered Hogarth, colouring. If only she had thought to plunge the scissors into her own heart! Hoddy … to return and find her either gone or dead! But even as the Wastrel's arms gathered her, there came the sound of hurrying steps on the veranda. " With this, she burst into tears, and sank with her face upon his shoulder. . Recovery impossible.
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