Langley," rejoined Mrs. " CHAPTER IX. "To-night you shall be my wedded wife. “Don’t think so,” Drummond answered. “There ought to be a Censorship of Books. ” She glanced at him, and it was suddenly apparent for one instant of illumination that this ring upon her finger was the crowning blunder of her life. I hope—I am sure that he did not see me. ‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this. It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing.
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