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"Good Lord, Miss Dallas! You here? At this hour!" "Concerning the theft of the body?" asked Jen, eagerly. "Do you know," interrupted Patricia, suddenly alert again, "I don't believe I'll ever amount to a row of pins as an artist? I always forget the work and think only of the people and the fun. I wonder if I can't brace up and do something worth while. I'll start in tomorrow—see if I don't.".
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Patricia lifted her brows, perplexed and inquiring, and then dropped them with a shrug that seemed to indicate that the matter no longer interested her. "Can't you guess from his self-accusation? Why, the woman he loved." Patricia shook her head. Outside a warm wind was blowing, and the air was filled with the perfume of flowers. In the dark blue sky hardly a cloud could be seen, and the moon, just showing her orb above the tree-tops, flooded the still loveliness of the night with wave after wave of cold light. All was full of charm, spellbound, as it were, by the magic of moonlight, when suddenly a long, wild cry struck shuddering through the silence..
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