” She sat motionless, with her hand tightening over the edge of the table, and he, too, said no more. I will endeavour. . I have tried not to tell you—tried to be simply your friend. He'd never forgive you. Spurlock has gone. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. ” “For a little time,” she answered. He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. She was surprised and stared at him when he did not immediately leave the bed as Gianfrancesco always did, but instead rested on his elbows.
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