Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. " "You, Miss Enschede?"—frankly astonished that one stranger should offer succour to another. “Dear friend,” she said, “do you not think that you are breaking an unspoken compact? I am very sorry. There was a stain of wine upon her dress. No, I thank you. Not like my father. At the bottom of her heart she was not a bit afraid of Ramage.
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