" "Be it so!" rejoined Sir Rowland, with concentrated fury; "but before we do part, I am resolved to know the name of your pretended husband!" "Torture shall not wrest it from me," answered his sister, firmly. He mumbled an apology and then stopped short. ” She looked at him; his face, downcast and in profile, was handsome and strong. Then before she could say a word to arrest him he was at her side. She told her husband that she wished her nothing more than her own death. She wished she could steal his smiles and keep them in a box, they had always been so precious. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. That would be an unkind twist of fate.
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