If she spoke to a policeman she did not know what would ensue. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. You are my slave—and such you shall continue. You will find the certificate in my pocket. " The woollen-draper made no answer, but hastily starting up, bolted the door. There sprang from that a vague hope that perhaps she might extort a capitulation from her father by a threat to seek that position, and then with overwhelming clearness it came to her that whatever happened she would never be able to tell her father about her debt.
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