You must be misinformed, Mr. It is queer how ideas pop into one's head. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. She had never seen so much food in her life as she saw at her own wedding feast. You must be lonely here with only a few men friends. “You did not tell me that you were going out, or I would have offered my escort. It has become a part of the order of my life. “The truth!” It was a moment of awkwardness between the two sisters —a moment, too, charged with its own psychological interest, for there were secrets between them which for many months had made their intercourse a constrained and difficult thing.
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