"Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. She seized the key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the handle and the ward as she tried to turn it. " "You astonish me," said the stranger, in a voice full of emotion. They hissed me!” “Beasts!” he muttered. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. The latch came with a weak click.
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