Here Stella Croyle is--with us--and she can't get away.

You can." Luttrell was not satisfied.

His grey eyes and thin, clean features were troubled like those of a man in physical pain.
"You don't know the strange, queer tie between Stella Croyle and me," he said.

"And I can't tell you it." Hardiman grew anxious.

Luttrell had the look of a man overtrained, and it was worry which had overtrained him.