She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. “You are not going out—this evening, I trust,” that lady asked, a trifle dismayed. He obeyed, letting the garment fall to the floor. ‘It is you who is the fool,’ she threw at him, whipping round again. ” “I’ve been clearing up,” said Ann Veronica, brightly. She could hear the bell tinkle as the horse shook its head. But we must not anticipate the course of events. “Whither away?” he said, very distinctly in a curiously wheedling voice. with you. “But was it wise to sing to-night?” “Why not? The man was nothing to me.
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