This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1896 edition. Excerpt: ...' She smiles forlornly, and, as if involuntarily, makes the usual customary gesture of farewell. Quickly remembering, she draws back her hand. It is the most pitiful thing. Verschoyle's blood mounts to his face. ' "Won't you shake hands with me?" asks he. "Would you shake hands with such as me?" returns she with a hard, forced little smile, sadder than any tears. "Miss Royce! I wish you would not speak to me like that!" exclaims Anthony, his manhood rising in arms. Taking her hand in spite of her, he holds it firmly, and with the usual warmth that one would show to a friend. Poor, poor little soul! God help her! "Do you think I judge you?" says he. "I judge him." "No." She puts up one hand quietly. "No, I suppose you cannot see it... but if he is not, in my sight, the most righteous man on earth, he is certainly--the dearest! " She turns and goes quietly to the open window; as she steps into the veranda she looks back. "You will burn it, I think," says she. "If you don't--you know the consequences." Verschoyle shakes his head. "Oh yes--you will! you will!" Moving away, a last word comes from her: "Of course you will." She disappears in the night. CHAPTER XVI. "Where are thy terrors, Conscience? Where thy justice?" SHE is gone, and Anthony is left alone, the letter still within his grasp. For a long time he stands motionless, forgetful of the fact that he is standing, gazing with frowning brows into the fire. What an infernal scoundrel! His mind seems a blank but for this one thought. It seems to swallow up all others. What, indeed, is there to think of but Fenton's...