She became aware that at regular intervals a light flashed upon her face and a bodiless eye regarded her, and this, as the night wore on, became a torment. Spurling, (for she it was,) either by her attractions of purse or person, had succeeded in moving the stony heart of Mr. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. But give me till to-morrow—only till to-morrow—I may be able to part with him then. Again the chalky pallor spread even to her lips, her eyes became lit with the old terror. A silver necklace enhanced the dusky beauty of her neck. ‘For my part, I am in no hurry to end this exciting little adventure.
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