The south door is unfastened; the coast is clear." "It is well.

Good-night." "Good-night." She stood a moment listening to the soft rustle of Miss Silver's skirts in the passage, then, slowly and mechanically, she began to prepare for her night's work.
She took a long, shrouding mantle, wrapped it around her, drew the hood over her head, and exchanged her slippers for stout walking shoes.
Then she unlocked her writing-case and drew forth a roll of bank-notes, thrust them into her bosom, and stood ready.
But she paused an instant yet.

She stood before one of the full-length mirrors, looking at her spectral face, so hollow, so haggard, out of which all the youth and beauty seemed gone.
"And this is what one short month ago he called bright and beautiful--this wasted, sunken-eyed vision.

Youth and beauty, love and trust and happiness, home and husband, all lost.

Oh, my father, what have you done ?" She gave one dry, tearless sob.