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The Storm VII. " Still the voice was without emotion; calm, colourless. Springing upon the box, he told the coachman to make the best of his way to Saint Giles's. " But the doctor softened the refusal by smiling. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. He loaded the launch with a thousand pounds—all she could carry—and started home immediately after sundown; but even then he lost from a hundred to a hundred and fifty pounds before he had the stuff cached in McClintock's bamboo-covered sawdust pit. "A bad girl?" She put the question as she would have put any question—leveleyed and level-toned. Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free. CHAPTER XIV.
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