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 "To know that you are not the man men take you for; that dear souls that cling to you would shudder at your touch if the scales could fall from their eyes, or if for an instant—as by a flash of lightning—the mask fell from your face!"

Christian's voice deepened, and he added,

"Yet to know that bad as one act of your life may have been, that life has not been all bad; that if men could but see you as Heaven sees you, perhaps—perhaps—you would have acquittal—"

His voice trembled and he stopped. Mona was gazing out over the sea with blurred eyes that saw nothing.

Christian had been resting one foot on the loom. Lifting himself he stamped on the floor, threw back his head with a sudden movement, and laughed again, slightly.

"Something too much of this," he said. Then sobering once more, "Go back, Mona. It sha'n't be for long. I swear to you it sha'n't. But what must I do with debts hanging over me—"

"I'll tell you what you must not do," said the girl with energy.

Christian's eyes but not his lips asked "What?"

"You must not link yourself with that Bill Kisseck and his Curragh gang."

A puzzled look crossed Christian's face.

"Oh, I know their doings, don't you doubt it," said the girl.

"What do you know of Bill Kisseck?" said Christian with some perceptible severity. "Tell me, Mona, what harm do you know of Bill and his—his gang, as you call them?"