CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. Wood, Sir," he added, with much emotion, "is one of the best of men, and would be the happiest, were it not that—" and he hesitated. His clothes were smartly pressed, his linen white, his jaws cleanly shaven; but the day would come when he would grow indifferent to bodily cleanliness. A long and secret conference then took place between the thief-taker and his myrmidons, after which they were severally dismissed. I don’t care what divides us. Was he planning on spending more time with her once in the country? The streets choked with beggars and the dying. When she arrived at the Palazzo, not a single sentry was aware of her presence. “You seem to have cultivated quite a jaunty appearance, and you certainly look years younger. You understand that term?” Ann Veronica smiled faintly. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. She wedged the towel between her legs. ’ The lady opened her eyes very wide indeed. His letter of credit; probably that was it; and, observing the strangeness of the room he was in, his first concern on returning to consciousness would naturally relate to his letter of credit. For two years he thought himself secure; and, secretly engaged in the Jacobite schemes of the time, in which, also, Sir Cecil was deeply involved, he began to relax in his watchfulness over Aliva.
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