" "Where did he get it?" inquired Wood, in surprise. In a tall glass the rind of a Syrian orange was arranged in spiral form. She disengaged her hands and stood up. “What were you doing outside Miss Pellissier’s flat to-night? You were looking at her windows. " "Come, jump up," cried Blueskin, mounting his steed, "and I'll soon wisk you to town. ” “My message is urgent,” he said firmly. “What is the good of pretending?” she said. We’ll leave him here, with a couple of others. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. ” It was her last evening in that wrappered life against which she had rebelled.
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