I have come to you for sympathy, perhaps for help. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. Everything was done in the most legal and imposing way, but the whole thing was a fraud. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. "I suppose I was mistaken," returned Gay. To fight inertia on the one hand and to study this queer girl on the other. ‘Yes, miss. Courtlaw—Lady Mackinnor.
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