Constance felt a thrill of satisfaction, and a return of courage, as she listened. Here was a friend, loyal, enthusiastic, not to be alienated by slander or suspicion. She had known Ray from his childhood, and they had always been the best of friends, but she had never admired and honored him, never valued his friendship so much, as she did at this moment.
His enthusiasm was contagious; she forgot all her fears, of a personal nature, and became in an instant the true woman and unselfish friend.
"Ah, Ray," she exclaimed, lifting two admiring gray eyes to meet his, "you are a friend indeed! a friend to be proud of; but tell me, did you hear nothing more of Burrill after that second encounter?"
"He made some pretty loud threats," replied Ray, "and a fellow named Brooks, a sort of crony of
