I do not love Kenneth." "You apprehend me amiss," said he tartly.

"Do you recall the story of Sir Crispin Galliard's life that you had from Kenneth on the night of Joseph's return ?" His voice shook as he put the question.
"Why, yes.

I am not like to forget it, and nightly do I pray," she went on, her tongue outrunning discretion and betraying her feelings for Galliard, "that God may punish those murderers who wrecked his existence." "Hush, girl," he whispered in a quavering voice.

"You know not what you say." "Indeed I do; and as there is a just God my prayer shall be answered." "Cynthia," he wailed.

His eyes were wild, and the hand that rested in hers trembled violently.