“Then let me be the judge of what is best,” she answered. What CAN she put before that?” His voice began to rise. Forgetting the dark thoughts of his last brush with the girl, he dropped the dagger back in his pocket, quickened his pace, and went back into the house to look for his hostess. She addressed him in a tone of puzzlement. Wood's dwelling,—a plain, substantial, commodious farm-house. I did all for the best, I'm sure. "Sir Rowland, I salute you as your nephew. That dress! Only a man—and an unworldly one—would have permitted you to proceed on your adventure dressed in a gown thirty years out of date. But you must come this way now.
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