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He would go there. '" "An ingenious device," laughed Gay. He screamed in pain, doubling over with a howl as she stumbled out of the bed. Whenever ecstasy— any kind of ecstasy—filled her heart to bursting, these physical expressions eased the pressure. He read but little, and that chiefly healthy light fiction with chromatic titles, The Red Sword, The Black Helmet, The Purple Robe, also in order “to distract his mind. It does not work, I still suffer madness. I shall always be kind to him; I sha'n't bait him. ‘They eloped. There ends my duty. “That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park.
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