’ Lucilla Froxfield laughed gaily. I wish she wouldn’t look like that at us over her glasses. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. “No, John, you won’t understand. It was noon when the caravan reached the tower of the water-clock. She parted the curtains to find him standing there. It did not matter in the least what name the young fellow was travelling under; all James Boyle O'Higgins wanted was the letter H. She controlled herself, and answered meekly, “No. D. Wild in his own domain.
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