I'll have a peep at him, if I die for it," she muttered, as she went out. Death belongs to God, young man. “Do you think it is fair of you to persecute me just now?” “It is not persecution, Anna,” he answered gently. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. God send the fellow did turn out to be a spy! Beckoning Roding on, Gerald crept down the corridor towards the source of the swishing he had heard.
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