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Fashion's Vogue in 1919. No. 7. ri 1:1 material is r FASCINATION OIF  too beautiful for i v tbe fashioning of lin g erie. Crepe de chine, ninon and silk are u sed as well as the:Enest linen. Women to-day do not' spend so much money on elaborate frocks, but are extremely exigeaint regarding their underwear. There is a won d erful fascination a bout the cre p e de c 'n u*' ,e garments. It is to be regretted, how- ever, that there is an erroneous in-i- pression that this material does i-iot wash well. As a matter of fact it washes like the proverbial rag when Puritan Soap is used. Nightgowz)s, cami-knickers and petticoats are !j 1 made of it; some are innocent of all f| hem-stitchidg usurping ^—1|^= pyjamas of this fabric are adorable. it be forgotten that s l iitn r suits an d H | Mr ir S a M B M m if1 jjjflfilXjl | it be forgotten that slumber suits and py jamas of this fabric are adorable. |j B • T v JLingerie of the finest linen is still __] ——lace and ribbon giving it an indelible S in the van of fashion, the deft use of lace and ribbon giving it an indelible r- Dainty Lingerie I wears longer when washed with Puritan Soap. And it looks so clean and pure because the olive oil in Puritan Soap cleanses so thoroughly yet so gently. Delicate colours retain their shade, delicate fabrics their texture. For lingerie and for all household laundry work choose— PURITAN SOAP THE OLIVE OIL SOAP R Made by Christr. Thomas & Bros., Ltd., Bristol, Soapmakers since 1745. N, 506
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The Chronicle will be IeDt by port to akny addrea at 4/4 lor the half-year, at 8/8 pet annum, payable ia advaace- I
Our Poultry Column.
Our Poultry Column. FAVEROLLES. Fashionc, in pouhry change just the same as in most other things, for the popular breed of to-day is not considered good enough when some new variety comes forward. There is much to be said for any new breed, because when the fresh one is brought out th"D is a combination of breeds to produce some de- finite end or colour, and in this crossing there must be more strength and stamina than you get in some of the older varieties which have been closely bred for years, hence the new ones will give better results for a time, and the chickens will be hardy and more easily reared, owing to this infusion of outside blood. In the keeping of new breeds some of the old ones have been lost, or at least sadly neglected, and in this last list would come the Faverolles, although they must be reckoned as one of the best all round varieties we have. With so many competitions and tests for laying, the breeds which come out on top are sure to go ahead, and they become popular, while some of the old and trusted breeds go under and seem almost forgotten. There a a big ,.x e a big list of breeds to-day, and some men say there are far too many varieties, but with such a diversity of opinion there should be room for all. The average man wants a good all round fowl, one which will lay a good many eggs, make a useful table bird, and yet raise him a few chickens in the spring. It is not everyone who runs a Incubator, so that when a few chicks are wanted a sitting hen is necessary, and if only Leghorns are kept, these are use- less for the hatching, and by the way, no good for table. But the Faverolle is a sound all- round fowl, which can be kept under any condition, and their results will prove satis- factory dn every way. One of the first things a novice should consider is whether the chickens are hardy and easy to rear before he takes on any breed, and then will the vaniety meet all his needs. Now the Faverolle will grow fast as soon as hatched, and at six weeks old can look after itself very well. As a rule the eggs prove very fertile, for although they are on the heavy side, they are pretty active, and this means some good chickens. Like every other breed, they do best when selected for laying, and when they have been picked out because of records made. It ,is a common thing to find hens laying 200 eggs in the year, and I have known individuals produce 240 in the twelve months. Naturally this can only be done when the birds have been bred for laying, and the best sorted out for breeding each year. The principle applied to other breeds of a sharp head, keen eye, and clean face will be a safe guide in selecting the layers, while actual colour will not make much difference. To these points should be added a wide back and long breast, then you combine both the h:.<:I <.£',1 table qualities, so that the cockerels will ir. j U tC bi,ds and the pullets good layers. There may be some objection to the feathered lpg, so as this is so ilLgl.t, it ..ccd n{': -onsiderecl. More iirpoxtuni t' i vhtte lik the skin, and this makes them attractive when plurked ready for sale. The muff and beard, small feathers rouD,1 i h, I cad and thi.iat, only I adds 'o their quaiii.iiesj, and is a feature of .he breed which no on,, need fear as to colds or any trouble of that When breeding for the utility points, the colour is not of rric'h -Mportetice, and yet it is just as wdl to select some that have the correct colour. The .nly aavainuge of this is that the flock looks befta, and naturally it is a better advertise- m' u. hi ?reed. Although the Salmon k  the most common, we have the White ant Blue, both of which being self colours, axe easy to understand.
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I [Ail Bxsxn Resisted.] I THE LADY IN I THE BLACK MASK I BY TOM GALLON, Author of Tatterley," "Meg the Lady," The Great Gay Road," &c. I CHAPTER X. I I RUTHERFORD SPEAKS. Clement's first feeling, as he silently left the office of Morris Loader and went quickly down the stairs, was one of deep gratitude, in that he now knew where Ruth was to be found. His second thought was one of dis- may, when he remembered the message that had been sent by Loader through the telephone to those who were looking for Ruth. Scotland Yard would act promptly; there could be no doubt as to that. Within aa hour or so the inevitable discovery must be made, and Ruth be a prisoner in the hand-s of the authorities. Wh&t was the best thing to be done? lastinct told him that his place, at that time most of all, was with the girl. Even if he could do nothing to protect her from the law, he could at least be beside her when the crucial moment of her arrest came. Without giving himself even time for reflection, he hailed a taxi, and was driven straight to Waterloo Station. lie would go to Lipstone; it might be that he would be in time. He found that, by great good luck, a train was starting in about ten minutes' time; and he went to the booking-office and bought his ticket. As he.put down the money and took up the ticket, a voice he seemed to know, just be- hind him, also asked for Lipstone, a return. Clement glanced back as he walked away from the booking office, and saw that the man who wanted to get to Lipstone was that mysterious Mr. Bradley, who had called upon Morris Loader and had written a note in his room. He thought nothing very much about the matter at the moment; his anxiety ton- cerning Ruth ousted all other thoughts. It was only when he was walking up and down the platform, waiting for his train, and saw Mr. Bradley also walking up and down the same platform, that he decided to speak to the man. As a matter of fact the other man seemed anxious to avoid him, if possible; or per- haps he did not recognise him. Clement walked up to him, and nodded; the other man stared at him a little blankly. "How are you, Mr. Bradley?" said Clement. "Oh, how do you dot" said the other absently and turned away. Clement felt somewhat rebuffed, and determined to take no more notice of the man. Presently, however, when the train came in, and Mr. Bradley opened the door of a carriage and stepped in, some resolution came to Clement to know more about this man, who had claimed to be a friend from boyhood of Morris Loader, and kpucerning whom Morris Loader had ap- parently known nothing. He opened the door of the carriage and stepped in and sat down opposite Bradley, who had bought a newspaper, and was reading it. Bradley glanced over the top of the paper for a moment at Clement, and then presently re- sumed his reading. The tram left the station with the two of them alone together in one compartment. Presently Mr. Bradley laid aside his paper, and turned and looked calmly out of the window. Clement made up his mind that ij,r o- t nau arrived viien lie mignt speak to him. By the way, Mr. "Bradley, I told Mr. Loader that you had called the other day and he didn't remember the name; said he had never heard of you." Really? Mr. Bradley raised his eye- brows and smiled. "Some people have very short memories. By the way, I didn't recognise you at first when you spoke to me just now on the platform; you are Mr. Loader's secretary, aren't you?" Yes. You came in, if you remember, to write a note to a friend, and you told me your name was Bradley. Mr. Loader felt quite sure that you had made a mistake in supposing that you knew him-or else that j I had made a mistake in giving your name. J You did say Bradley, didn't you?" "Oh, yes, certainly I said Bradley," said the other. There was a long pause, during which Mr. Bradley stared again out of the window, and whistled a little tune softly between his teeth. At last Clement leaned forward, and asked a question. I "By the way—is your name really Bradley ? The other man turned round, and looked at him quizzically for a moment or two; then spoke in a confidential tone. "Look here, young man, you seem to be very deeply interested in me." "I am," said Clement, quickly. "You got me into trouble, and made me look like a fool. That's why I'm interested in you." "Well—I apologise for both," said the i other, with a smile. "I never like to get anyone into trouble. My name certainly is Bradley, so far as you're concerned, and we can leave it at that. It is Mr. Morris Loader who has forgotten; but I have no doubt that one of these days he will remem- ber. In fact, I'm quite certain h will. By the way-have you been with Mr. Loader long 7" "Only a few days," said Clement. I "And I expect you find him very nice to get on with—charming fellow, and man of the -orld, and all that sort of thing? Rich, too, they tell me." "T really couldn't tell you about his wealth or anything else," answered Clement stdn". ) "Quite right—very natural a.ndproper," ¡ said Mr. Bradley, with ? nod. "Confiden- tial secretary—knowing all his employer's ) i secrets, and keeping them very much to himself. Now you're the right sort of con- fidential secretary, you are." During the remainder of the journey Mr. j Bradley remarked upon the beauty of the I scenery, and the weather, and the crops, and other matters; Clement said but little. The train was drawing to a standstill, and the porters were bawling "Lipstone," as the two men rose to their feet together. "Hullo—do you gtM; out here? asked Mr. Bradley. "Yes, this is my station," said Clement. "Ah wise young man," said the otner. ¡'«'Compelled to work in smoky London spend your evenings and your nights and ,your early mornings in the fresh air. Capital I Yaotion. Iivc- "a: .W?y?" I > "No, ,quite n-%r," answered Clowient. [vaguely. I "Then perhaps I can give you a lift," said* the other briskly. "Or perhrv^ y" j tel? where the place is, ;)],1 i may not • 3».a-vo to '(-a-kc 3 fly at a] I i x, gg" to a he.. he I Ciemeiu's heart leapt, and th?n seemed vo j ptand still. During the short journcv ? I name of that house had been sinking i 1 i". bram—that iiouse in which Ruth was sup- posed. to be living. And }.(.) was ihif I tirade JDa:1, who had come for some hidden purpu., +0 Morr^ Loader's office, and who had nrivcii a false name or a I ,false account of himself, asking for tv~ v. Ty house to which Morris Loadc; '}'ii- the Sooiiar-d Yard officials. He had to think quickly and Pct quickly,* jior, of course, he bad not the ghost of a* tBotMn where the place was. "Oh, œfh'r jtetoe a 6y," he said. "Any of tb-? drivers N- Jn know it. And I snail be sir*! of iho F" sli?l be e' ':?: < h e ?t." "Then come along," said the other; and they left the station together. They got into the 11 together, and while Clement puzzled out m his mind what he was to do, and how particularly this man was concerned with Lady Woodmason's house, Mr. Bradley, perhaps stirred thereto by the beauty of the evening, and perhaps a little by the ease with which this thing was after all to be accomplished, became a little garrulous. "I'm just going to pay a little private call," said he, "and then I'm going back to London. Also I shouldn't be a bit surprised if I don't return to London with company; I may have to escort a lady. Therefore, if you don't mind, I think I shall have to turn you out when we get to The cottage—un- less, that is, I have to drop you before- hand." "No, I go past The Cottage," said Clement. He ,knew now, or gueoed, who this man was. This was the emissary from Scotland Yard-the man who was going to arrest Ruth. Iijl a dull fashion, Clement, in his misery, wondered what the man had had to do with Morris Loader, and why he had called at Loader's office. But there was no time to think about that now; his one idea was to think about Ruth. There was a mad notion in his head that he might be able, in some fashion or other, to prevent this man from meeting her—or in some fashion to warn her of the danger that was approach- ing. And even while he thought that, the slow old horse attached to the fly plodded steadily along the country road in the direc- tion of the house. There it was at last, with its name neatly painted on the outer gateposts that gave en- trance to the drive. Mr. Bradley called out sharply to the driver that he need not go up the drive; he could wait in the road. Then he got out and offered a hand! smil- ingly to Clement. "Good night, sir, and many thanks for ,the pleasure of your company," he said. "I hope you haven't got to walk far." "Thanks—only a very little way now," said Clement. He shook hands with him, and turned away; and the other man marched brikly up the drive towards the house. Fifty yards away, Clement stopped, and looked back. There was the fly at the gate, with the old horse drooping his head, and the driver standing beside the vehicle light- ing a pipe. Clement thought bitterly of how presently Ruth must drive away with the man Bradley in that vehicle, and so be taken back, a shameful prisoner, to Lon- don. On an impulse he walked back, and turned in at the lodge gates. Perhaps, after all, the man was human, and might let him travel to London with her. It was growing dusk, and as Clement walked on towards the house he wondered just what course he should take. And then, a little afraid, and wondering also what was best to be done, he stepped aside for a moment out of the wide drive; and so stood amongst the trees, looking at the house in the distance. As he stood there, a light hand touched his, and he felt himself drawn further into the shadows. He turned quickly, and gave a gasp of delight and astonishment. He stood face to face with Ruth. "My darling girl-I came to look for you, he stammered out, as he took her into his arms. "It has come," she murmured, clinging to him, and with her lips on his. "I saw the man not a minute ago. Bellamy." "So that's his name —is it?" said Clement, with a short little laugh. "Well, my darling—he hasn't got you yet. No time to tell you now; we've got to get away. I expect he's gone to the house, and he's asking a hundred questions, and demanding to search the place and all the rest of it. Wh-I.u- JVCC doing- here, wltB your hat and coat on ? "I couldn't stand it any longer; I was going to try and get away," she faltered. "I won't do anything now; I'll go back, and give myself up to him. Somehow I felt that I wanted to see you—just wanted to feel your lips on mine, and to hear your voice, dear old boy; after that, I should not have minded what happened." "N onsense—we're going to have another run for our money, Ruth," he sat- gaily. "We've got to be quick about it. Tell me— is there another gate out of these grounds? .lust over there," she said, pointing. "it leads into a lane, and the lane joins the high road further on. But it's no use; I can't get away." can"'Wt e'll try, at any rate," he said, encir- cling her with his arms, and drawing/her on through the trees. "We'd go out at the front gate but for the fact that the fly is standing there, and the driver would be sure to say which way we had gone. Come along—and trust to luck." A special Providence, watching over Ruth, must have been abroad that evening, al- though at first they d*id not know it. Clement and Ruth went through the gate and gained the lane; turned from that into the main road. Clement began nownfeo realise the hopelessness of the adventure; for even that slow old horse that had brought him from the station would easily be able to overtake them. But it was something to be with Ruth, even for a few moments; even to dream, however impossibly, that there was a chanoe for her to escape. Providence, however, was close behind them and Providence took the elusive form of a young man in a very large motor-car. The young man wore goggles, and had a grey c.ap pulled over his head, with the peak dropping down the back of his neck; and he was striving to break records. With a wild hooting of his horn he dashed past them; and Clement, thinking of matters of speed, heaved a sigh as he disappeared in a cloud of dust. Clement plodded on, with Ruth beside him. "It's no use, Clem dear; we'd better go back. I'm tired and frightened; and I should never be able to get away." And there, even as she spoke, and as they turned the corner of the road, was the young man with the motor-oar, standing beside it, and looking at it a little doubtfully. He was a cheerful young man, and be glanced at them as they came abreast of him, and spoke of vis car affectionately. I've been taking a bit too much out of her," he said. She's a willing thing, but I've been making her do too much." They must be difficult things to handle," said Clement, just for the sake of saying something. I believe you, my boy," said the cheer- ful young man. And then unexpectedly: "1 say, the lady looks tired; I suppose I couldn't give you a lift anywhere? I'm just pottering about the roads and seeing ii liat s h e wilt ?a, ] >out the road is and seeing "what she will do." By Jove, if you would!" exclaimed Clement, stopping, and facing ;;v-*ut. We want to get to London." Well, old son, you're going the wrong j vav Bail the young man a laugh, Ltesides, I don't think I couid manage London. Tell you what,! will do; I'll spm you along to the next town—that's twenty- five tciles )I,, and you can catch t-V. last tr; la up. I'd love doing it, b:-eau& with ( luck br«rl a record. In with you, and y ? d see some good gOi3W.  Gratefully enough they got in, and the ) j ounjy man, who seemed even mere delighted than. they were, tucked rugs round them I an(1 made them comfortable- "And don't' you be frightened," said the young man to » Ruth. "She's a flier, but never evüi) I. knocked a bit of paint off yet." He climbed bnck into his se,, 1 a puli to kk ( ip, fc setti-a it aowr • -rer his ears; and bent frutvard over his wiicel. The c..r ga.ve a t8ing jolt, au<j ooeawd to shor ? out into the shadow of ?e e?cn- ing. Tiley raced off down the road at a terrific pace. Jn an incredibly short space of time they found themselves standing in the booking- hall of the railway station, with tho tickets in Clement's hand, and with the young man of the motor-car standing- beside him. He had taken off the cap for the first time, and had shown some rulfled, fair curls; he was shaking hands with Ruth. "Five minutes to spare," said the cheerful young man. "Isn't she a wonder?" The train came into the station, they selected an empty compartment, and R Clement and Ruth got in. As it steamed out, the last thing they saw was the cheer- ful young man waving his cap and beaming upon thein. For the first time for many days Ruth leaned back against the cushions of the carriage, and burst out laughing. Meanwhile, Bellamy had walked up to the house, and had rung the belL He knew pretty well what to anticipate; difficulties and expostulations, and perhaps tears; but all those things he was used to. The in- formation he had received over the telephone was pretty certain to be correct; it was not worth anyone's while to send him on a fool's errand. It was a little unfortunate that the person giving the information should have rung off immediately, and so should have failed to disclose his identity. But people did not always like to take the responsibility on themselves when they played the part of informer. Bellamy knew pretty well what to do when the door was opened and he stepped into the hall. "I want to see Lady Woodmason at once. I have come specially to see her," he said in a tone of authority to the servant. "No. I don't want to be shown in anywhere; I'm going to wait here till her ladyship comes. I've only got a couple of minutes to spare, so please hurry up." The man went away, and was gone for some moments. Presently Lady Woodmason appeared, and advanced slowly towards Bel- lamy, with her glasses held on the bridge of her nose. She had no time to speak be- fore Bellamy plunged straight into the busi- ness. "Lady Woodmason, my name is Bellamy, and I have come from Scotland Yard. I hold a warrant for the arrest of Miss Ruth Tringham, who is in this house," said the man in businesslike tones. She gasped, and retreated a step. "I tell you that I know—know absolutely nothing about the lady. I cannot tell vou-" "Now, Lady Woodmason, you are simply making trouble for her and for yourself," said Bellamy. "I know that she is here- and I am here; aiid I have a fly at the gate ready to take her back to the station we shall catch a train to London. I'll do the thing as delicately and nicely as I can, Lady Woodmason, if you'll let me, and not even the servants shall know anything about it. I'm only doing my duty don't malee that duty a disagreeable one. Please tell the young lady that I'm waitings and that she has got to come back with me at once." Without any other word of expostulation or entreaty or anything else, the old lady turned and walked slowly up the stairs. Bel- lamy stood there waiting, with his hat in his hand, and the other hand stroking his bald head; presently Lady Woodmason came down the stairs again. "I can't find her; she's not in her room, and she does not seem to be in the house," she said quickly. Now, my lady-is it fair—or is it kind ? asked Bellamy, in a sharper tone. "I am trying to do the thing nicely, and you treat me in this fashion. Do you think I'm a fool? What is the good of keeping the young lady out of sight, when you know that you're simply putting off the evil moment." "My good man," said the old lady with sudden sternness, "I am not such a fool as to try and fight with the law when the law has me at grips. I am as much surprised as you are to find that Miss Tringham has gone; I frankly admit that she was here less than half-an-hour ago. But she has gone." "Has she dressed herself for travelling?" asked Bellamy sharply. Lady Woodmason nodded- "Her hat and coat are gone," she said quietly. WelL she can't have gone far, that's certain," said Bellamy briskly.' "Unfortu- nately, I'm alone in this business, and I've only got a wretched old fly in which to make my search. I suppose she'll have made for the station." Bellamy went out hurriedly to the fly, and found the driver leaning there against the shafts. Questioned sharply as to whether he had seen any one pass out of that gate, the man declared that no one had passed him since he first drove up, and no one had been along the road. Bellamy, puzzled, wasted some time in this question- ing, and then went back to the house again. But though he questioned an exasperated Lady Woodmason, and though he insisted on searching the house, he of course found no Ruth Tringham; and. finally drove off to the station, where, after other fruitless in- quiries, he disgustedly took the last train back to London. • I On that same evening Morris Loader, going back bo his rooms at Knightsbridge, pictured to himself the hurrying down to j Lipstone of Scotland Yard officials, and the arrest of Ruth. He wondered what sort of reading the papers would present in the morning; he hungered to know. And yet, at the back of his mind, out- weighing all that, and greater than all that, rose the thought of Damia. For now he told himself that, greatly as he had loved her, there had always been a feeling of dis- trust in his mind about her. He told him- self that it wa-s a sort of pretty weak- ness and timidity that had caused her to tell little fibs to him and to others, little white lies that should save her trouble and annoy- ance. She had not meant to tell little white lies, but they had madeqife easier for her, and she had got into the habit of it. He wondered vaguely if she had got into the habit of telling greater lies for a greater purpose. For ever through his mind sang that name and address; he could not get rid of it. "Taul Rutherford, Hall Court, Temple. Perhaps after all Ruth Tringham had in- vented the man, and there was no sach being in existence. He could stand the uncertainty of it no longer; he decided that he must put the matter to a test. He got his hat and coat, and came out into the streets; took a taxi, and directed the man to drive to the Temple. Moodily smoking as he went' along, he prayed that he might not find that such a man existed; how happy he would be if be could drive home, after a fruitless search, and know that he had been deceived, and that Damia was true to him. The cab stopped at the gate of the Temple; Loader got out, paid the man, and turned in at the narrow archway. He had not often been in the Tenaple before;' per- haps even there would not be such a place as Hall Court to be found there. He bad walked through one or two of the narrow courts, his feet echoing in the stillness upon the stone flags; and there suddenly was HaD Court before him. A certain grimnees had settled upon the maai now; he walked eiowly along, and glanced at the names that were painted up on the sides of the doorposts. Nothing at No. 1 to concern him; nothing at No. 2. No. 3 had a shorter list than the others, and he scanned it rapidly, because there was only one other house in the court. And there be read the name Paul Ruther&Hd. He stood fox qu?to a long time looking at it, and woe (- ga if he really saw it, or if he ->¡:e dreaming. Then, after a little time he mounted the ■ta>m He saw the namo painted over a door; upon that door he knocked. After a moment or two the door was opened, and a tall, handsome mm stood tttece within the little lobby, looking v V "Mr. Rutherford: "That is my name. Ilio Y.P, w=r»t to eee JD&? Will you walk uii" Morris Loader waTked ir- .it found him- 3 self in a well-farnished, rather low-roofed room, partly lined with books, and with all the evidences in its furnishing of a man of taste and culture. Rutherford pointed to a chair, but Morris Loader shook his head, and stood looking at the other man, and wondering how he should begin. "Mr. Rutherford, I =.' 9 you are acquainted with a lady named Marsh, Miss Damia Marsh?" Loader asked at last. "I should like to know first, before I answer you, in what way you are connected with her, or what gives you the right to question me about her," said Rutherford. "I am engaged to be married to her," said Loader. "That sounds scarcely possible," returned Rutherford, with a quiet laugh. "I may tell you in confidence that the lady is my wife." Loader gripped the back of a chair by which he stood;, the room seemed to be going round and round. He steadied- him- self with an effort; he seemed to hear, as from a great distance, the other man speak- ling. "For a double .reason, Damia and I were married secretly," said Rutherford. "The first reason was that my people, on whom I am. dependent, had made up their minds that I should marry someone else; the second reason was that her guardian-Daniel Verinder-had come to a similar resolution regarding herself. I presume you are, the man P "Yes, I am the man," said Loader. It had been arranged that Damia should marry me; it was all settled. Has she never men- tioned my name to you-Morris Loader?" "She has never spoken of you at all," answered the other. We were married one morning by special licence, and we parted at the church doors. We were to wait until we could win over our people—we hoped that that might be done in time, when they knew that the marriage could not be un- done. I am sorry for you, Mr. Loader; but she is my wife. I met her at the house of some people I knew, and I fell in love with her at first sight. What are going to do?" "I don't know," said Loader, in a dull voice. "Good night! « He walked out of the rooms, and down the stairs, and out into the hoi11 g stillness of the court. In some way he found himself presently leaning over that railing on wlif Ruth Tringham had once leant, and looking out towards the river. "All that I have done for hw-au that I have sold my soul to, do few her. And this the end I" he said. "I know now what I will do; that f6 as fixed as the stars above there. I will kill her!" (To be OOBtBHMd? "f- I