Ah, why did they ever meet! She has worked on his sympathy and he--he took these letters for her sake, not to injure you.

Oh, you must make some allowance for him! One's sympathy gets aroused in spite of oneself; even I feel sorry for--these people." "Don't," replied Ryder grimly, "sympathy is often weakness.

Ah, there you are!" turning to Jefferson, who entered the room at that moment.
"You sent for me, father ?" "Yes," said Ryder, Sr., holding up the letters.

"Have you ever seen these letters before ?" Jefferson took the letters and examined them, then he passed them back to his father and said frankly: "Yes, I took them out of your desk and sent them to Mr.Stott in the hope they would help Judge Rossmore's case." Ryder restrained himself from proceeding to actual violence only with the greatest difficulty.

His face grew white as death, his lips were compressed, his hands twitched convulsively, his eyes flashed dangerously.