Hitherto she had seen it chiefly in pictures and other works of art, incidentally, and as a thing taken out of life. " "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses. ‘Dolt! Muttonheaded oaf! Why the deuce couldn’t he have sent you home?’ Valade cut in at that. “She has lost something,” he declared, “something which brought the men in crowds around the stage at the ‘Ambassador’s. In the present case it did not matter, as there was no one else within earshot. She had to resist an impulse of sheer terror, to run out after them and give in. She flushed with desire and happiness, her husband had returned to her and all would be aright. CHAPTER X.
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