To-night there seemed to be a new brilliancy in her eyes, a deeper quality in her tone. She ought to have leapt back on guard. The Reverend Henry Dolby had come to see China; for that purpose he had, with his wife and daughter, traversed land and sea to the extent of ten thousand miles. One point was that she was to wear fancy dress in the likeness of a Corsair’s bride, and the other was that she was to spend whatever vestiges of the night remained after the dance was over in London with the Widgett girls and a select party in “quite a decent little hotel” near Fitzroy Square. So the charge was dismissed. His looks were fixed on his old benefactor. His sword-arm fell useless at his side and she knew herself safe. "A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband. ’ ‘Are we to infer that he had a choice?’ enquired Gerald.
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