" "For whom, Sir?" inquired Charcam. " Sir Rowland made no reply, but angrily quickened his pace. "Oh! they are—are they?" muttered Jack, triumphantly; "that'll do. Mrs. ‘Softly, you say?’ she uttered, raging. She hit the villain with it. She had arranged for a supper of tea, a boiled egg, and some tinned peaches. Fresh ground, no chicory, and all the rest of it. Ann Veronica had had some training at the Tredgold College in disentangling threads from confused statements, and she had a curious persuasion that in all this fluent muddle there was something—something real, something that signified. " "My writing! no such thing!" ejaculated the lady, casting a look of alarm at the woollen-draper.
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