The next morning the lulls between the gusts of wind grew longer and the wind-waves shorter. The snow ceased to fall and the shadows on the clouds began to brighten with the glow of the sun behind them.
The city stirred and shook off its white robe of death. The woman looked at the wounded man with a stifled moan.
"It's no use, Ruth," he said, feebly. "I can't escape. I've got to face it."
"What will they do to you, Frank?" she asked, in misery.
"I don't know," he answered, brokenly. "I killed him in the heat of passion in a fight. But I'll be tried for murder."
The officers came and read the warrant of arrest. The dark, tense figure, erect, with defiant face wreathed in midnight hair, stood by his bedside and held his hand.
Her great eyes glowed and gleamed as though a young lioness stood guard over a wounded cub. ······· Behind the bars in murderers' row the weeks
