Can you come over?” “I think so. ” Her voice trembled with suppressed passion. “Thanks, Mister McCloskey. Here's your health in a bumper, and wishing you a better husband than your first. He leaned forward, and looked into the eyes of the woman he loved, and it seemed to him that she sang back to him with a sudden note of something like passion breaking here and there through the gay mocking words which flowed with such effortless and seductive music from her lips. Here was not the individual against whom she had been warned. ‘And I do understand. Heard of your last escape. Will you forgive me—if I say no more?” She looked at him with perplexed, earnest eyes.
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