dBooks desire

''
``Yes,'' she said. And deathly pale and almost stag-
gering she drew open the door and went out into the
public hall.
``For God's sake, Mrs. Siddall!'' cried Harding, in
great agitation. ``Come in quickly. They are watching--
they will tell him! Are you mad?''
``I think I must be,'' said she. ``I am sick with fear.
I can hardly keep from dropping down here in a faint.
Yet--'' a strange look, a mingling of abject terror
and passionate defiance, gave her an aspect quite insane
--``I am going. Perhaps I, too, have no limit.''
And she went along the corridor, past a group of
gaping and frightened servants, down the stairway and
out by the private entrance for the grand apartments
of the hotel in the Rue Raymond de l'Isle. She crossed
the Rue de Rivoli and entered the Tuileries Gardens.
It was only bracingly cool in the sunshine of that
winter day. She seated herself on a chair on the
terrace to regain her ebbed strength. Hardly had she
sat down when the woman collector came and stood waiting
for the two sous for the chair.


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