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He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. ” He coughed gently. “What are you two whispering about?” She turned towards Martin. "Well, Sir?" gasped Sir Rowland. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. To-day he selected the girl, and gave her the lead-chair. She dressed rapidly and left the theatre without a word to any one. “Are you going on again this winter with that scientific work of yours? It’s an instance of heredity, I suppose. Then the work is optional; they go on their own.
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