" "Wait a bit, massa," replied the grinning negro,—"lilly bit—see all right fust. Here, turnkey. Makes you real. Something unpardonable is laid to my charge. ” “What did you say?” “I said, ‘My dear Veronica! how can you think of such things?’” “And then?” “She had two more cups of tea and some cake, and told me of her walk. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. They had asked her to come to the first of the two great annual Fadden Dances, the October one, and Ann Veronica had accepted with enthusiasm. He was perhaps forty-five years of age. She was bathed in turbid water that had already been used. For an instant, Gerald wished the rest of the world away that he might go to her and administer appropriate comfort.
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