” “Shirts?” “Shirts at one—and—something a dozen. Stanley took the letter and stood with it in his hand thoughtfully for a time. ‘Why did you kiss me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ Gerald admitted. Forgetting the dark thoughts of his last brush with the girl, he dropped the dagger back in his pocket, quickened his pace, and went back into the house to look for his hostess. But kill me rather than commit this outrage. In vain did the woollendraper offer to set him free if he would restore the stolen article, or give up his associate, to whom it was supposed he might have handed it.
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