Then she looked up at Brendon. Only she is not Madame Valade at all. He placed his chin upon the top of her head. “And how did you find us here?” “I called at Montague Street a few minutes after you had left. How came you by the hurt, eh?" "How did I come by it?—that's a nate question. He meditated, and began a new paragraph. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. The necessity of defending herself and assuming a confident and secure tone did much to dispell the sense of being exposed and indefensible in a huge dingy world that abounded in sinister possibilities. That bruise will answer the same purpose. ’ ‘But she must have known I’d longed to hear of you. But he reckoned without his host.
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