Baptist Kettleby (for so was the Master named) was a "goodly portly man, and a corpulent," whose fair round paunch bespoke the affection he entertained for good liquor and good living. Wanted her out of the way because he had been afraid of her, afraid of himself! He, at fifty-four! Then into this void poured a flaming anger, a blind and unreasoning anger. But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. To-night we leave for Marseilles. In the rush of commuters he did not see her boarding his train. It was after all a momentary affair. Gwen made an inquiry, and, directed by Mrs.
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