They don't believe me in Whitehall, or Selingman would be at Bow Street to-morrow morning.

That's why I am going my own way.

Tell him, if you will.

There is only one thing strong enough to bring me here, to risk everything, and that's my love for you." She was in his arms, sobbing and crying, and yet laughing.

She clutched at him, drew down his face and covered his lips with kisses.
"Oh! I am so thankful," she cried, "so thankful! Francis, I ached--my heart ached to have you sit there and talk as you did.