’ Amusement flickered in Gerald’s breast. Miss Mary to the life, I said, and so she is. You forget all the mass of training and tradition and instinct that go to make him a tolerable master. I'm glad of it, I'm sure; for it's all owing to him his poor mother's here. Remember! not a word!" So saying, he huddled the mantle over Wood's shoulders, dashed the lantern to the ground, and extinguished the light. With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. To Spurlock's observing eye, Enschede's wrinkles multiplied and the folds in his clothes.
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