Taber," said the manager. "What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard. If only this man had been her father! The world would have meant nothing; the island would have been wide enough. "Stolen by a gipsy when scarcely five years old, Constance Trenchard, after various vicissitudes, was carried to London, where she lived in great poverty, with the dregs of society. The thousand voices which a few moments before had been so clamorous were now hushed. Sebastian administered bitter tonics to her, fluids she could not taste with her swollen tongue. ‘That’s better. ‘If you love me, you will say it, or else I will blow off your head. ‘Wait a minute, though.
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