Stanley, “very strongly. White, my landlady, believes his story. "Eh-day! what's this?" cried Wood, looking up from beneath his spectacles. Yesterday!—who cared? To-morrow!—who knew? "Porpoise," she said, touching his hand. “I can’t believe it. ” At this point she had perceived that she was drifting from her subject. But about his unknown rival he was acutely curious. “Well, anyhow, consider it open. Wood, disdainfully. " "I'll give you something better worth keeping," she answered, detaching the ornament from her neck, and presenting it to him; "this contains a lock of my hair, and may remind you sometimes of your little sister. Gerald was conscious of that sliver of irritation again at mention of the name. Consternation gripped him. .
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