"Do they treat you ill?" asked her son. The Wastrel, his eyes full of humorous evil, stood inside the room. ” “You mean—you think——” “Hush! I think that he was concealed in my room, and Annabel and he met there. . Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it. I think he got sick of us and he disappeared not one week later. She hated to leave; for this hour would be the most interesting. But Sheppard took no notice of the exclamation.
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