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‘Softly, you say?’ she uttered, raging. As she neared the bottom of the dip in Piccadilly she saw a woman approaching her from the opposite direction—a tall woman who at the first glance seemed altogether beautiful and fine. Not that it would make any difference if he was alive still. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. And all the third act is love-sick music. But at this point he was still subservient, still outwardly humble, in spite of the blackhearted villainy that was even then burgeoning in his breast. I sat within a few feet of him. McClintock's initial revulsion was natural; he was an honest man.
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