The window was shortly after opened, and a rope ladder, with a lighted horn lantern attached to it, let down. She found she was trembling at his nearness and full of a thrilling dread that he might touch her. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. "So you're writing under a nom de plume, eh?" said McClintock, holding out the letter. " "Your hesitation is not in your favour," observed Trenchard, sternly. Sheppard," replied Winifred, advancing.
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