“Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. Tell me, Sir," she added, with forced calmness, and grasping Wood's arm; "what has Jack done? Tell me in a word, that I may know the worst. ‘Where did you get that, miss?’ ‘It is the sword of monsieur le major. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws.
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