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He was confined in the Middle Stone Ward, a spacious apartment, with good light and air, situated over the gateway on the western side, and allotted to him, not for his own convenience, but for that of the keepers, who, if he had been placed in a gloomier or more incommodious dungeon, would have necessarily had to share it with him. But me, I am going to England. "That's scarcely a fair question, Mr. Now then," he added more calmly, "I am ready to die. "How long will he be laid up?" "Three or four weeks, if he doesn't peg out during the night. ‘You know?’ ‘Come, come, Melusine. Ruth is not another man's wife; she is all your own, for better or for worse. ’ ‘She?’ scoffed Martha. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. “It is not, of course, a pleasant subject of conversation for you or for me, yet I think I may venture to suggest to you that your sister’s—er—indiscretions—have reached a point which makes a separation between you almost a necessity. You’re the only person I’ve really given good, straight, unselfish thought to. Not a word was uttered by the assemblage; but a hush of expectation reigned throughout.

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