” “Why?” she asked. He won’t have menservants inside the house, and his collection of carriages is only fit for a museum—where most of his friends ought to be, by-the-bye. ’ ‘That wasn’t my fault. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. She touched it, and her gaze lifted. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. He certainly bore inspection. " "It may be; but if it shortens the distance and lightens the journey, I care not," retorted the widow, who seemed by this reproach to be roused into sudden eloquence. Well, this was the side of the world where things like that happened. "But don't wait for me, Sir Cecil.
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