And the face which looked out over the man's shoulder, and had lately been as the face of Delilah, was become as the face of Jael, the wife of Heber the Kenite.
"No more secrets, Bob?"
"No more secrets, Gertie; but how pale you look! Take some brandy, little girl. Now, I'm going to make you laugh! Listen!"
[CHAPTER XI]
PROGRESS
Sir Michael Manichoe, Father Ripon, and Harold Spence were sitting in Sir Michael's own study in his London house in Berkeley Square. A small circular table with the remains of a simple meal showed that they had dined there, without formality, more of necessity than pleasure.
When a small company of men animated by one strenuous purpose meet together, the same expression may often be seen on the face of each one of them. The three men in the study were curiously alike at this moment. A grim resolution, something of horror, a great expectation looked out of their eyes.