" "You, Miss Enschede?"—frankly astonished that one stranger should offer succour to another. “I do hope that I shall be able to make it up to you. “Well, I don’t feel like standing it. Nor must it be imagined, that while he thus exercised his teeth, he neglected the flagon. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. From the Sha-mien to the yacht, Spurlock had uttered no word; though, even in the semi-darkness, no gesture or word of Ruth's escaped him. She accomplished it with the aid of the young fellow’s hand, and stepped down into the road, glancing up at the house as she did so. She seemed to have recovered herself as he returned, but rose as if she would go back to the saloon. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key.
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