‘Forgive my not rising to greet you,’ she said, holding out a claw-like hand. " "By no means," rejoined Wood, hastily. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. He was normal now, and the coat was only a coat. But don't let my name frighten you. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. During the wet monsoon the west beach was always littered. ” “It is odd that this man at the hospital should call himself Meysey Hill,” she remarked. ’ ‘Then you’re mad,’ Roding said flatly, and suddenly grinned. Upstairs, in the little dressing-room, the panel was opened by means of tugging a small candlesconce in the wall. His vision was becoming accustomed to the faint light now and her features were clearer. She knew, or guessed his mission too, for more than once their eyes met, and she laughed mockingly at him. She could not resist enduing persons she met with the noble attributes of the fictional characters. But the possible attitude of her father she had still to face. It isn’t.
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