It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. “You will be so late. A glance down the passage—to see that Roding was not lurking?—and her face came back to Gerald, triumph in her eyes. Wild, Captain?" remonstrated the other, in a deferential tone. He then stamped upon the hand on the lower bannister, until that also relaxed its gripe. " "Depend upon it, Sir. " "Ah, yes; that coat. Assessing him as harmless, she had remained friendly, albeit aloof.
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