"If this document is correct," continued Wood, "and I am persuaded it is so,— you are as unfortunate as wicked. Give me the chisel, Blueskin. Get it off your soul. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. Maybe the girl was telling the truth, and then again, maybe she wasn't. Suddenly he understood what had happened. All they left it was the moon and stars. I came to London to look for you, and somehow the figure I saw in my dreams had got mixed up with you. He lunched in the Legal Club in Chancery Lane, and met Ogilvy. “To be an actress,” he said, “you require a special and peculiar temperament.
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