\" She said. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. ‘Well, shan’t I come to the major’s house up Stratton Street, sir?’ ‘I’ll give the major your report, Trodger. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. ’ ‘She again?’ enquired his hostess, her delicate brows rising ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am. Everybody, he felt, must be listening behind their papers. ” “You came to tell me this?” “I came for you,” he declared fiercely. It may be, it probably will all come to, nothing.
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