"You want me, then?" she said. "Beg pardon, Sir Rowland," said the attendant, "but there's a boy from Mr. ’ ‘What young lady?’ demanded a voice from the back of the hall. ‘Nothing would do for her but to come here,’ grumbled Hilary, wiping his heated brow with a pocket handkerchief dragged from his immaculate white uniform breeches. Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. You cannot depart hence. I am a man—of a sort of experience. ” “Perhaps,” he said, “you had better let me have your key, and I will go up and explore.
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