Not a word was uttered by the assemblage; but a hush of expectation reigned throughout. Her eyes were lit with a gleam of humour. The dress came to her only too manifestly unwashed from its former wearer; even the under-linen they gave her seemed unclean. I thought—the papers said——” “You thought that I was dead,” he interrupted. I hope this is all. The woman I wanted was another man's wife. It is queer how ideas pop into one's head. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. “I suppose, Mr.
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