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 while Clawski gave this sketch of the bogus Hon. Cuthbert, and after listening intently to all the fat diplomate had to say, he heaved a great sigh of relief. No, Clawski had not heard the last thing connected with the strange affair, and his thunder was not stolen. Rapturous thought! As Gray Grosvenor stood silent, a smile of superior knowledge on his face, a warm complacency in his expression, awaiting the recovery of his breath, lost in the quick pace at which he had walked from the racket court to the corridor, his eyes fell upon a picture framed in the oriel of black wood in the balcony of the racket court. There, looking down at the group, stood Gladys and her lover husband, smiling, bright, and beautiful. What a contrast they were,—the Saxon-haired man, strong and ruddy with health, and the graceful slender woman with her white face and great dark eyes! For one moment they stood looking down at their friends in the full sunlight, and then Gladys waved a white hand, Farwell