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The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. The manager had sketched the girl's character, or rather had interpreted it, from the incidents which had happened since dinner. She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her. You shall hear from me to-morrow. “Sir John is a man of the world,” her aunt answered coldly. "Bolt the wicket!" shouted Ireton, who, with the others, had been not a little entertained by the gallant turnkey's discomfiture. “I doubted my luck, at least. He brought into service all his Oriental bar-room tricks.
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