“Then you know all about Edna and what has happened! I see it in your face, Jimmie! Just tell me in confidence.”
But the wary old man who had spent many years in prison cells only smiled and shook his head.
“I don’t interfere with other people’s affairs, Dick. You know that. I’ve enough to do to look after my own.”
“But where is Edna? Is she—dead?”
The old man merely shrugged his shoulders with a gesture of uncertainty and ignorance.
Chapter Sixteen.
The Light of Love.
It had been all summer—endless, cloudless summer in England, from the time of the violets to the now ripening corn. And there was no foreboding of storm or winter in the air that glorious day.