Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away. It was not a hard face, but it was resolute. Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. That a longing of hers should be realized in this strange fashion was difficult to believe: it vaguely suggested something of a trap. There was a bare chance that he had been mistaken. Bullding is going to. He was about to cut the sergeant short, when his eye fell on a gentleman walking along Piccadilly, his manner uncertain, his eyes shifting as if he sought something out. "Ruth?" Silence for a moment. Ah! I have it," he added, after a moment's deliberation; "he's there, I'll be sworn.
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