Wentworth was hurrying towards him at this moment, would be travelling all night, would reach him in the morning.

Dear, dear Wenty, he would be happy again now.
Michael groaned.
"It's no kind of use.

I _can't_ believe it." He tried to think of Fay.

He should see _her_ soon, touch her hand, hear her voice.

Poor little darling! She had not the courage of a mouse.
Perhaps she was a little glad at his release.Yes.No doubt she had been pleased to hear it.