“I kept it, I don't know why,” he heard her say; “I didn't have the heart to burn it.”
He started recovered himself, and rose.
“I'll go to see the agent the first thing to-morrow,” he said. “And then—you'll be ready for me? You trust me?”
“I'd do anything for you,” was her tremulous reply.
Her disquieting, submissive smile haunted him as he roped his way down the stairs to the street, and then the face in the photograph replaced it—the laughing eyes, the wilful, pleasure—loving mouth he had seen in the school and college pictures of Preston Parr.
Volume 5.
CHAPTER XVII. RECONSTRUCTION
I