’ ‘Well, sir? Who is “she”? Not my granddaughter, I take it. "Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. "How do I know you are a friend?" asked Darrell. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. To make Ruth pay for it! He wanted to get away, into some immense echoless tract where he could give vent to this wild laughter which tore at his vitals. It reached her only slowly that Ann Veronica was standing to her resolution. “I have heard these things from you before, and you have had my answer. . ’ He gave the gaping Pottiswick a shove, passing him on to his junior, who was waiting patiently by the kitchen door.
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