‘That—that—why do you speak of him?’ ‘Because I feel you ought to know,’ Gerald said calmly, but rising and watching her closely, ‘that all your trouble may be in vain. If the boy was legging it alone…. But I have not done so, and will not. Quilt, who was an ardent lover of mischief, could not help laughing most heartily at the rueful appearance of these personages. The afternoon had passed now into twilight. "No, no, Sir," replied Ireton. Pramlay received them in the pretty chintz drawing-room, which opened by French windows on the trim garden, with its croquet lawn, its tennis-net in the middle distance, and its remote rose alley lined with smart dahlias and flaming sunflowers.
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