” Lucy begged. At every step he seemed to be haunted by the ghost of the past. “Don’t think so,” Drummond answered. And she found herself able to do nothing of the sort. " "You had better write them for me, Mr. ” “I promise,” he answered heartily. He drew out the check and the editorial letter. “But your sister?” he asked. , like to forget all about it—even their names. ’ He frowned again. A little table covered with a damask cloth was dragged out. He had not taken many steps when he perceived Quilt Arnold in the upper gallery, with a lamp in his hand.
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