"Unless your directions are more explicit--I should
think so."

"You know, I thought the mountains near Asheville
was a bunch o' hills off one side like the Palisades,
that you couldn't miss if you tried. I've never been
outside of New York--since I can remember. I'd love to
see real mountains."

The last sentence was spoken in a wistful pathos
that touched Mary with its irresistible appeal. Her
mother instincts responded to it in quick sympathy.

"You've missed a lot," she answered gravely.

"I'll bet I have. It's a rotten old town, this New
York----"

He paused, and a queer light flashed from his steel
eyes.

"Until you get your hand on its throat," he added,
bringing his square jaws together.

Mary lifted her face with keen interest.

"And you've got it by the throat?"

"That's just what--little girl!" he cried, with a