" "Oh! let me die," groaned the widow. Her moods were many and always striking. “And by what right do you do anything of the sort?” “No right at all,” he admitted. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. It is queer, but men of education and good birth fall swiftest and lowest. His sword-arm fell useless at his side and she knew herself safe. "While I live you are safe," rejoined Trenchard; "after my death I can answer for nothing.
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