" "Well," said Sister Prudence, "remember, I tried to save you some future heartaches. This helped to restore Ann Veronica’s self-command. She had made a bed for herself out of wood and furs. "My servants, like Eastern mutes, must have eyes, and ears,— and hands, if need be,—but no tongues. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. Ann Veronica passed from her aunt to her father, and put her arms about him and kissed his cheek. ‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door. A man is so apt to—to take women a little too lightly. Oh the back of her arm she found the faintest down of hair in the world. "The manager says there is still some doubt. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. ‘Don’t concern yourself,’ Gerald said calmly. She was an indignant queen, no doubt she was alarmed and disgusted within limits; but she was highly excited, and there was something, some low adventurous strain in her being, some element, subtle at least if base, going about the rioting ways and crowded insurgent meeting-places of her mind declaring that the whole affair was after all—they are the only words that express it—a very great lark indeed.
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