His brute strength surged through her veins, she could feel his energy in her heart, his life force stolen like candy from a baby. . Why should he stare at her in this fashion?—for all the world as if she had pointed a pistol at his head? CHAPTER III He had said it, spoken it like that … his own name! After all these weeks of trying to obliterate even the memory of it!… to have given it to this girl without her asking! The thought of peril cleared a space in the alcoholic fog. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. After listening attentively for a short time without drawing breath, he became convinced that his apprehensions were groundless, and, greatly relieved, sat down upon the chair to rest himself and prepare for further efforts. Then he released her hand, and sat back a little, appearing to concentrate his thoughts on her face. “Don’t think so,” Drummond answered. ’ ‘It is so in a convent, you see,’ she explained airily. .
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