"I cannot—dare not injure him," rejoined Trenchard, with a haggard look, and sinking, as if paralysed, into a chair. She plucked at the knots of her racket and heard him to the end, then spoke in a restrained undertone. "Leave me to my fate," rejoined Jack. Bring the light this way—quick! I cannot decipher the signature. Forthwith he presented his card. I freely forgive you. She comprehends what we're about. He was a manly man, free from any strong maternal strain, and he had loved his dark-eyed, dainty bright-colored, and active little wife with a real vein of passion in his sentiment.
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