She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. It is I who took the burden of your misdeeds upon my shoulders that you might become Lady Ferringhall. “Dinner is served, ma’am,” he announced to Mrs. “Let us sit down for a moment,” he had said. All this muddle to placate his conscience! "Here—quick!" McClintock thrust a cigar into Spurlock's hand. And then all her restlessness was turned to joy. It was the first—and the last! At this juncture, the handle of the door was tried, and the voice of Mr.
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