May I do so to-day?” “It’s your gate,” she said, amiably; “you got it first. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. ‘Sapristi. . Gerald glanced at Hilary and saw the stunned look on his face. Certain it was, that the slightest sound aroused him. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. She doesn't love you; she hasn't the least idea what it means beyond what she has read in novels. It is in vain to struggle against the arm of fate.
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