He kept at it even on those nights when the monsoon began to break with heavy storms and he had to weight down with stones everything on his table. "You call in vain," rejoined Thames. "Enough," said the widow, gratefully. “It will spoil your life. ” Ennison’s voice shook a little. She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment. As the secret door opened, the sounds within the house came at once to her ears: the tramping of feet above, and the hoarse voices echoing through the mansion. The Widow and her Child.
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