“Poor little Miniver! What can she be but what she is?. ” She laughed gaily—and she had a way when she laughed of throwing back her head and showing her beautiful white teeth, so that mirth from her was a thing very much to be desired. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. ’ ‘I was called in, ma’am, to catch a French spy—at least, that is what Pottiswick thought.
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