“You might have given me a chance, anyway. He felt that he was getting on with her very slowly indeed, but he did not see how he could get on faster. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. “Is it your maid?” he asked. CHAPTER XI. He drew a little breath and stepped back. His physical body was predictably paralyzed with shyness and fear of rejection, barely soothed with a series 51 of blatantly direct requests and compliments. She knew now the supreme human energy which sent men to hell or carried them to their earthly heights. "Stolen by a gipsy when scarcely five years old, Constance Trenchard, after various vicissitudes, was carried to London, where she lived in great poverty, with the dregs of society. ’ *** It must have been fate, Gerald decided, near an hour later, staring intently at the closed French windows on the raised alcove that led out to the terrace. She crept behind the open door and pounced on him when he came out of the bathroom, knocking him onto the floor with a loud thud. She remained for a few moments standing as though listening to his retreating footsteps. The risk I run is nothing to yours. She read the policeman’s rueful glance when she caught his refection in his rearview mirror. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control.
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