He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. Promise me that you will not disobey the injunctions of her whose memory we must both of us ever revere. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. There’s sure to be a place somewhere. And yet, at the end of this prayer a subconscious thought broke through to consciousness. . " CHAPTER XX To Spurlock it seemed as if a great iron door had swung in behind him, shutting out the old world.
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