This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. ’ *** Gerald Alderley stepped out of a house he had been visiting in Hamilton Place and the door closed behind him. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. She thought of her costume in some detail and with considerable satisfaction, and particularly of a very jolly property dagger with large glass jewels in the handle, that reposed in a drawer in her room. "If I had my old tools with me, we'd soon master this obstacle," he muttered. . ‘And certainly I wish that Joan will come with us. .
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