A spiteful-voiced clock on the mantel counted off eleven strokes.
Percy arose in sudden confusion.
"How inexcusably late I have remained," he said, "how can I ever obtain pardon—"
"No excuse is necessary!" interposed Mrs. Griffith. "We all thank you for causing Miss Maxon to talk so freely. It is seldom she does, and we love to hear her conversation as well as her singing. Be sure and come again, Mr. Durand."
As he walked back to his hotel, in upon his strangely enlarged and enlightened vision, a sudden thought of Dolores darted. He stopped in the street and put his hand to his brow. "My God!" he cried, "how can I go back to her?"
[CHAPTER XVII.]
A MAN, A WOMAN, AND SPIRITS.
