“But you yourself,” she exclaimed, glancing into his face, “you too look tired. ‘Gerald Alderley, I don’t know what you deserve. “For nothing, do you call it?” he declared. Would you stand by me—and her?” “My dear Nigel!” she exclaimed. "I cannot—dare not injure him," rejoined Trenchard, with a haggard look, and sinking, as if paralysed, into a chair. ‘Lord in heaven, could it be so?’ ‘Don’t look at me,’ exploded Hilary. You're an angel of goodness. "What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass.
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