After the usual laconic greetings, he drew him on one side. She took it up in her many-ringed hands and read it judicially. At last he could bear it no longer. Her tone was icy. “Just come to that seat now you are here, Miss Stanley, and look down the other path; there’s a vista of just the common sort. He was not there. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. I know less about this affair perhaps than you suppose. Courtlaw,” she remarked.
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