That’s why I chucked Manning. Passing at a glance over the whole of the intervening period; leaving in the words of the poet, —The growth untried Of that wide gap— we shall resume our narrative at the beginning of June, 1715. You may fall into the hands of your enemy. "Where is your accursed master?" demanded Blueskin, holding the sword to his throat. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. The world into which she was so boldly venturing was going to be wonderful, but never so wonderful as the world within these paper covers. A quick flush stained her cheeks. And it had not shocked her! It was this appalling absence of indignation that had put terror into her heart. She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end.
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