Wait a moment. She posed herself before her mirror and surveyed herself with gravely thoughtful, gravely critical, and yet admiring eyes. ‘I’m a soldier, missie. How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot. I will see to it as I will be appointed careful watch over her. Their conversation was conducted in the flash language, and, though unintelligible to Wood, was easily comprehended by this companion, who learnt, to her dismay, that the wounded man had received his hurt from her son, whose courage and dexterity formed the present subject of their discourse. ‘Come, come, ma’am,’ he said smiling. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate.
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