Mr. CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. “Look here,” he cried out of a silence, with a sudden flash of understanding, “did you mean to throw me over when you came out with me this afternoon?” Ann Veronica hesitated, and with a startled mind realized the truth. “It is rather odd,” he said, “but I always thought that your name was Annabel and hers Anna. "Well, lad, supposing you read what the editor has to say?" was McClintock's suggestion, when the frolic was over. Jackson, I could almost fancy we had met before. He had been baptized there. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter.
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