’ ‘Oh, she is English?’ repeated Alderley, interest perking up. "He is," replied a portly personage, arrayed in a gorgeous yellow brocade dressing-gown, lined with cherry-coloured satin, and having a crimson velvet cap, surmounted by a gold tassel, on his head. He came to her at once, and turning, walked by her side. Why, there was drama in the very dress she wore! There was drama in the unusual beauty of her, hidden away all these years on a forgotten isle! "You've been lonely, too. Your name?" "Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; "I've no reason to be ashamed of it. ” She smiled faintly. The man had favoured him with a brief nod, but the girl had gone so far as to offer a tiny smile, and a look under her lashes with which not even Gerald, for all his scant interest in female society, could fail to be familiar. The ruffian's companions took his part. Young, not much older than she was: she was twenty and he was possibly twenty-four. But don't suppose, Madam, that anything I say has reference to you.
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