’ She bit her lip, and then turning her face away, emitted another sigh. She had traversed perhaps three bookshelves, passed across the door that must lead to the hall, turned the corner, and was just about to reach the fireplace when she abruptly became aware that something under her fingers had felt wrong. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. All the linen was new and stamped with the mark of Whiteaway, Laidlaw & Co. Darting to a window looking in that direction, Thames threw it up, and discharged both his pistols, but without effect. "I can't help thinking of it, Sir," answered the widow. ” She was frightened—his anger always did frighten her—and in her resolve to conceal her fright she carried a queen-like dignity to what she felt even at the time was a preposterous pitch. “Which is Mr. Now you're up, take this spike. "I haven't offended you?"—not contritely but curiously. ‘As for you—’ ‘Do not address me.
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