It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. She made no answer, and for a time he debated some problems with himself. The chapel was situated in the old ballroom, and from there, down a few stairs, the vestry had taken the place of the pantry next to the kitchens. He inspected the formidable array of rifles and at length walked over to the register. ’ Both hands about the butt of her unwieldy pistol, Melusine glared at him. "What is your name?" To-day, however, he broke the monotony. She opened it and imbibed.
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