“It is an annoyance, my friend,” she said, “not a tragedy. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. Beneath two tall elms, whose boughs completely overshadowed the roof, stood Mr. Turning, she flew for the nearest door. He can't play cards, either, when he's sober. I was engaged to dine with your sister and her husband, and I sent a wire. I got to have you under guard in the gatehouse, I can see that. "O, lud!" she cried; "French noblemen in disguise! and so rude as I was! I shall never recover it!" "A good supper will set all to rights," insinuated Kneebone. But in this posture he fared worse than ever. "Call as you please, beloved girl," he cried, "I will not stir till I am answered.
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