“I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly. 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. “You didn’t expect that I should kiss you?” “How was I to know that a man would—would think it was possible—when there was nothing—no love?” “How did I know there wasn’t love?” That silenced her for a moment. " [Illustration: Distinctive Pictures Corporation. “Please let me drive you home. Sheppard, eagerly. Was there ever such madness?” “I am afraid that I don’t understand,” Ennison answered. He knew she had been weeping. Sir James Thornhill, then, rose. ” “You should have let me do this for you a long time ago.
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