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If you don’t eat humble-pie now you may live to fare worse later. She held out her hand for it, but Gerald smiled. She felt that with Capes near to her she would be content always to go on loving. "Come with me, my love, come—come," cried his mother, seizing his hand, and endeavouring to force him away. His lovely black eyes softened until they became like languid as the night sky. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom.
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