’ ‘Don’t be too sure,’ said Miss Froxfield darkly, with a mischievous glance at her betrothed. You've nothing to do but to take possession. "Suppose he does. ” “I wonder,” he said, a trifle irrelevantly, “what the future has in store for you. She and Courtlaw drove homewards together. What could I do at home? The other’s a crumple-up—just surrender. You would want me to be clean, if you gave me a thought, that is. Loving was better than that. “What a beautiful mare’s nest!” she exclaimed. .
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