“I have given it up,” she answered. " "Of course," rejoined Quilt, maliciously; "every thief is so. He deserves none. “Ruin me? For what? Posterity? How could you ruin me, Lucy? What on earth are you talking about?” He got up and began to pace the room. Grasping one of chairs about the little table, he drew it forward and sat astride it, in a fashion as insolent as it was unexpected. She set her fingers in the hair and tugged, drawing him to a sitting posture and stooping so that her eyes would be on the level with his when he awoke. "So my father thought," replied Winifred; "and he therefore instantly fired upon him. " CHAPTER VI.
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