Sir John stood upon the threshold. Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. At least here she was safe. Darrell stopped, and drew his sword. Her finger-nails dug into her flesh. “For men have reason, women rhyme A man scores always, all the time. You make of me once more a game? Eh bien, I have told your friend that I will kill you, and if you will give me my dagger this minute, I shall do so at once. The manager, however, who stood in the wings, nodded to her to proceed, and the orchestra commenced the first few bars of the music.
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