” Chapter XIX “THIS IS NOT THE END” “I said some afternoon,” she remarked, throwing open her warm coat, and taking off her gloves, “but I certainly did not mean to-day. Beneath these prints, a cluster of hobnails, driven into the wall, formed certain letters, which, if properly deciphered, produced the words, "Paul Groves, cobler;" and under the name, traced in charcoal, appeared the following record of the poor fellow's fate, "Hung himsel in this rum for luv off licker;" accompanied by a graphic sketch of the unhappy suicide dangling from a beam. " "A novelist?" cried Ruth, thrilling. “But about last night. Yes, I can readily believe it. ’ Gerald eyed her. It seemed to him that speech would be an anticlimax. ’ A multitude of changes flitted across Melusine’s features as she stood there for a space, unusually silent. ‘I’ll get the key,’ said Roding, turning abruptly.
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