" "Your secret?" demanded Trenchard, impatiently. He was also, had she known it, more than a little insincere. I have a weapon—a knife—and if you attempt to open the door, will plunge it to my heart. What a girl of sixteen cares for is hair and a high color and moonlight and a tenor voice. \" She knew he was blushing in the dark. "Swear that you will do this," she cried. Here they were regaled with another plentiful meal by the hospitable carpenter, who personally superintended the repast. He was in evening dress: swallow-tailed coat and white tie. . “I love your sister.
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