You might tell the truth to some men, but never to him. On gaining a stack of chimneys at the back of the house, he came to a pause, and again unmasked his lantern. He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. ’ ‘Very true.
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