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Marvel, then, took two iron weights, each of a hundred pounds, and placed them in the press. Then he went back to his rooms and lit a cigar. He might spend the rest of his days at McClintock's in perfect security. “Dreadful women, my dear!” said Miss Stanley. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads. “But how can you?” asked Constance. He had found her in a communicative mood, and he used the accumulated skill of years in turning that to account. And a ballot-box—” Her face assumed an expression of intellectual conflict. CHAPTER XII.
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