‘You are stubborn like a mule. . ” “Of course,” his friend answered. Of course this thing was absolutely impossible. “Mr. "Allow him that small grace," cried Wood. The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. And it’s like the petals falling from a flower. For a time he and Miss Klegg contradicted one another. I didn’t dream, not even in my wildest dreaming, that—you might have any need of me.
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