It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. “All the time he is shouting and muttering. "I am one. " "If my dignity must be purchased by the loss of you, I renounce it," cried Thames. Her husband sat in a chair beside her bed, his head in his hands. By this time, several of the terrified domestics appeared with lights. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. Here and there, a building might be seen with the doors and windows driven in, and all access to it prevented by the heaps of bricks and tilesherds. "You poor child!" Prudence took Ruth's hands in her own. Her eyes noted it mercilessly. He caught the elderly dame’s eye, throwing her a desperate message. .
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