“You silly fool,” he said. He bowed over her hand, venturing to drop a kiss on it’s leathery surface. "Precisely. Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. The peculiar appearance of the sky was not without some influence in awakening these terrors. A slight rain fell at the time; and a few leaves, caught by the eddies, whirled around. "How have you contrived to still these troubled waters?" "I've chanced upon an old ally in the Master of the Mint," answered Rowland.
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