No man knew whence she had come nor why. A victim of one of those mental typhoons that scatter irretrievably the barriers of instinct and breeding; and he had gone on the rocks all in a moment. Good looks, with a melancholy cast, always drew sentimental females. He did not know what her game was, although he had a shrewd suspicion that she had been co-opted into it by her supposed husband, the soi-disant Valade. Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. I firmly believe that she is as straight as a die. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback.
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