Pure romantic nonsense on her part. “Perhaps,” he queried, “you wish to avoid being seen about with any one—er— connected with the profession, under present circumstances. She stumbled through a thorny copse, her slippers sliding on patches of sand that gave way to rock. I tell you once more, I'll say and do nothing to get you into trouble. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. Upon the steps leading to the gates of the church stood two persons whom Jack instantly recognised.
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