“My only answer would be to ask you to look at that mirror and then at the poster. "What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard. ” He unfolded his serviette with fingers which shook all the time. And then she came out into the street, sure only of one thing—that she could not return directly to her lodgings. Arrived at the secret door, she grasped the lever that opened it and placed the lantern on the floor. “Not really. At last—I told a story. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors. ’ Her features broke apart in a laugh. To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. Had he been sick in the mind when he had done this damnable thing? It did not seem possible, for he could recall clearly all he had said and done; there were no blank spaces to give him one straw of excuse. It was surely odd that her thought should pick up that picture and recast it so vividly. He subjected me there to great annoyance by claiming me as his wife.
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