A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. “And by what right do you do anything of the sort?” “No right at all,” he admitted. He smiled tenderly. She received into her slack grasp the pistol and dagger, only half aware of taking them. Notwithstanding her emaciation, her features still retained something of a pleasing expression, and might have been termed beautiful, had it not been for that repulsive freshness of lip denoting the habitual dram-drinker; a freshness in her case rendered the more shocking from the almost livid hue of the rest of her complexion. " "It matters not. “I am giving my understudy a chance.
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