“Dr. Heath, here is another visitor.”
Clifford Heath turned slowly away from the small iron-barred window; he looked a trifle disturbed by this announcement, for he had just been interviewed by Mr. O’Meara, who for the first time had presented Mr. Wedron, and the two had left him much to think about.
The look of annoyance left his face, however, and a stare of surprise took its place, when, following upon the footsteps of the janitor, came Constance Wardour, not closely veiled and drooping, after the manner of prison-visiting females in orthodox novels, but with her fair face unconcealed, and her graceful figure at its proudest poise.
The haughtiness all departed from face and bearing, however, when the door closed behind her and she found herself alone with the man she had falsely accu
