Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. " "I, a thief?" "Aye; thief, Roundhead and all. ‘Parbleu,’ she uttered indignantly. My poor brain is so mixed, dear, I hardly know what I am saying. I know how bad it feels. Squire and master. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. “I say!” he said, without any movement. And always they were well satisfied. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. She passed inside and upstairs without a word.
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