"My child!" he groaned faintly. And yet, she would be easy prey in her present state of mind to any plausible, attractive scoundrel. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. Can’t ask the gent to go abroad and condone a bigamy. "But to drag this innocent child into the muck! With her head full of book nonsense—love stories and fairy stories! Have you any idea of the tragedy she is bound to stumble upon some day? I don't care about you. . “You’re burning up.
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