If only you could see the people who have been to call on me! Sir John has the most absurd ideas, too. She traced him by his scent. Twenty guineas, mind. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. He drew an awed breath. In another minute, the tramp of horses' feet told that the perpetrators of the outrage had effected their escape. She wanted to kiss his feet. I know less about this affair perhaps than you suppose. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child. "God forgive me for using such a word!" he cried, in a troubled tone; "if I hadn't yielded to my wife's silly request, this wouldn't have happened!" CHAPTER VII.
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