A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter. "Surely," he added, staring at Rowland, "either I'm greatly mistaken, or it is—" "You are not mistaken, Baptist," returned Rowland with a gesture of silence; "it is your old friend. Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter. She longed to allow him to kiss her again, to touch her again. "A thousand pounds," he observed, gloomily, "is a heavy price to pay for doubtful secrecy, when certain silence might be so cheaply procured. “My hand! This isn’t the place. Gerald lost his head. I've watched this lad—this Sheppard—from infancy; and, though I have apparently concerned myself little about him, I have never lost sight of my purpose. It doesn’t matter. . "So he may," rejoined Abraham, aloud, "so he may.
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