Smith. To be sure, he was slightly deaf, and had to use an electric
apparatus if he went to the theatre or opera; still, Annesley hoped that
her choked cry might arrest him, that he might stop and listen for it to
come again, thus giving time for the man upstairs to change his quarters
after the grating of the latchkey in its lock.
"Wicked, wicked girl!" Mrs. Ellsworth was shrilling. "How dare you hurt
my hand? Have you lost your _senses_? Out of my house you go to-morrow!"
But Annesley did not hear. Her mind, her whole self, had escaped from her
body and rushed out into the hall to intercept Mr. Ruthven Smith. It
seemed that he _must_ feel the influence and stop. If he did not, some
terrible thing would happen--unless, indeed, the other man had heard and
heeded the warning sound at the front door. What if those two met on the
stairs, or in the room on the second floor? Her lover would believe that
she had betrayed him!
"Mrs. Ellsworth," she said in a fierce, low voice utterly unlike her own,
"you must let me go, or you will regret it. I don't want to hurt you,
but--there's only one thing that matters.
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