“You propose, then,” she remarked, “that I shall still be saddled with a pseudo husband. “What made you marry him? What made you leave Paris without a word to any one? What made you and your sister exchange identities?” “There is one answer to all those questions, Nigel,” she said, with a nervous little shudder. “And, after all, I am just one common person!” She watched the throb of the arteries in the stem of her neck, and put her hand at last gently and almost timidly to where her heart beat beneath her breast. I had nosebleeds that day and I got halfway up the rope before I fell off. She was about to rush to his side, when she saw his clenched hands rise and fall upon the sand repeatedly. “It is no good playing a game.
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