He smiled inwardly. " "There's some one in the garden at this moment," cried Jack; "I saw a face at the window. They were drenched with water and suds. I have written, called—of what avail is anything—against that look. Great vistas of history opened, and she and her aunt were near reverting to the primitive and passionate and entirely indecorous arboreal—were swinging from branches by the arms, and really going on quite dreadfully—when their arrival at the Palsworthys’ happily checked this play of fancy, and brought Ann Veronica back to the exigencies of the wrappered life again. She opened and read it at once. He’ll do. " "And what—what was your answer?" demanded the widow, eagerly. "Mine died while I was over here.
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