The blood temporarily halted to her brain, Michelle slept peacefully again. It was nearly one o’clock; but there were lights still in all her windows. "Well," she said, in reply, "I may have done Jack an injustice. He sat up in his chair again, the colour came back to his cheeks. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. “That,” she answered, “is far easier to believe. Wood fared still worse. “Here,” he said, “is this Blau See, and here we rest until to-morrow. .
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