A Secret Service

Ida Vanstone looked out over the dismal array of chimney pots, saw the drifting pall of smoke like the shadow of her own hopes and fears, and, for the first time in her life, was afraid. And yet she could have ended it all had she liked; a sheet of notepaper and a penny stamp would have finished this struggle and privation. Ah, anything but that! She thought as she watched the smoke-wreaths whirli...