Her face scarcely reflected his enthusiasm. Her time and effort was justly rewarded, because the hard cold facts she knew about neighborhood intrigues were better than fictional soap operas. You have converted me to—Lester Ward! You are my dear friend, you are a slip of a girl, but there are moments when my head has been on your breast, when your heart has been beating close to my ears, when I have known you for the goddess, when I have wished myself your slave, when I have wished that you could kill me for the joy of being killed by you. What have you got to say?" "Too much," replied Kneebone, shaking his head; "sadly too much. ] CHAPTER XI The second call energized her into action. .
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