“I’m next, Mr. She wondered if he was already tired of her, if he would rudely push her away as one would a prostitute. “Let me help you,” he begged. “And what is it all about, Veronica?” he asked, with a deliberate note of irony, looking at her a little quizzically over his glasses. I sha'n't cry any more. As far as I can, I belong to them all. He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. . " "I'll excuse it nevertheless," returned the little damsel, affectionately extending her hand to him. come. Her disapproval was obvious enough. "Jonathan does what he pleases in the courts.
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