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"Tonbridge!" I repeated

"But he is not the man to--to run away," said she doubtfully

--"even fro my head, "he certainly did not run

away, but circumstances--and a stone, were too much--even for him"

"A stone?"

"Upon which he--happened to fall, and strike his head--very

fortunately for me"

"Was he--much hurt?"

"Stunned only," I answered

She was still kneeling beside my chair, but now she sat back, and

turned to stare into the fire And, as she sat, I noticed how

full and round and white her arh, and that the hand, which yet held the sponge, was

likewise very white, neither big nor little, a trifle wide, perhaps,

but with long, slender fingers Presently, with a sudden gesture,

she raised her head and looked atlook

"Who are you?" she asked suddenly

"My name," said I, "is Peter"

"Yes," she nodded, with her eyes still on mine

"Peter--Smith," I went on, "and, by that same token, I am a