At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. The latter haughtily returned his salutation, and flung himself, as if exhausted, into a chair. "I dare not, Rowland," she answered. . She slipped out the window, jumping to the ground from the second story with very little sound. He was always deceived by these rustlings which promised wind and seldom fulfilled that promise. CHAPTER XXIII. The likelihood is that I shan’t see the wench again. I’m sick of this town and I can’t wait to get out. " "But you will,—won't you?" she rejoined, looking him coaxingly in the face.
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