Upon my word—you are Miss Pellissier, aren’t you?” “I certainly am,” she admitted. ’ He clenched his fists and grew red in the face. "I'll see. As he looked up at the massive tower, the clock tolled forth the hour of midnight. Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. The hard work will be his, until we yank this young fellow back from the brink. They stood back together and stared at it. . In a very definite sense we are in the wrong —hopelessly in the wrong.
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