” “We should go back. " "Don't be angry with me, Sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly, "pray don't. They were both conscious, however, that something had intervened between them. As to his mother, I've no pity for her. You were dying and your baby along with you. Drummond smoked his cigarette meditatively. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. I had done the most compromising things, and behaved in the most ridiculous way. Usually his charges bored him with their interrogative chatter, for he knew that his information more often than not went into one ear and out of the other.
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