“Come, Robert, we will go home together.”
She never looked back, although Willard Frost stood and watched them, a mingled smile of pity and triumph upon his sinister face.
CHAPTER XVIII. TIMELY WARNING.
Robert sat in his studio, when presently the door opened.
“My dear Latham,” cried the artist.
“Well, Milburn, how are you?”
They were, at last, alone together. Involuntarily, and as if by an irresistible impulse, Marrion began at once:
“Robert, I must speak to you on a delicate subject. You are my friend, a man for whose interests I would all but give up my life,” and his mission flashed across the other’s mind.