"Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manacled wrists; "they were put on by my uncle's command. Little by little the pool cleared, the whims vanished: so that both Ruth and the doctor, by the middle of the third week, began to accept Spurlock's actions as normal, whereas there was still a mote or two which declined to settle, still a kink in the gray matter that refused to straighten out. I do not wish to return to Paris. . ‘You have a knack of saying just the wrong thing. ” “And why shouldn’t you?” “I felt that sort of thing couldn’t go on. I have been sitting with him ever since. And mind, your life,—more than your life—hangs upon your choice.
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