"What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. We'll get together this afternoon; and you can pretend that I am your father. ‘Yes, but quite my own fault. Her aunt returned before the packing was done, and Ann Veronica lunched with an uneasy sense of bag and hold-all packed up-stairs and inadequately hidden from chance intruders by the valance of the bed. I——” The door was thrown open. After he was gone in the morning, Ruth would steal into the study and hurriedly read what he had written the previous night. ’ Kimble’s widening gaze told its own tale, but still he kept his fingers on the handle of the door.
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