The look of joy, of exquisite happiness, seemed to have suddenly vanished from her face; there was a deep furrow between her brows.
She sighed a short, sharp sigh, and cast a rapid upward glance at her husband.
He was looking down at her, smiling good-naturedly, a trifle sarcastically perhaps, and the frown on her face deepened.
"Percy," she said abruptly.
"Yes, m'dear." "These anxieties are terrible to bear.

You have been twice over to France within the last month, dealing with your life as lightly as if it did not now belong to me.

When will you give up these mad adventures, and leave others to fight their own battles and to save their own lives as best they may ?" She had spoken with increased vehemence, although her voice was scarce raised above a whisper.

Even in her sudden, passionate anger she was on her guard not to betray his secret.

He did not reply immediately, but seemed to be studying the beautiful face on which heartbroken anxiety was now distinctly imprinted.
Then he turned and looked at the solitary booth in the distance, across the frontal of which a large placard had been recently affixed, bearing the words: "Come and see the true representation of the guillotine!" In front of the booth a man dressed in ragged breeches, with Phrygian cap on his head, adorned with a tri-colour cockade, was vigorously beating a drum, shouting volubly the while: "Come in and see, come in and see! the only realistic presentation of the original guillotine.