’ He clenched his fists and grew red in the face. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. The young man did not know what he was doing or where he was. "While I live you are safe," rejoined Trenchard; "after my death I can answer for nothing. Nice, of course. And next morning she attired herself with especial care and neatness, found his address in the Directory at a post-office, and went to him. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. The chair is in the veranda.
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