"What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. She winced as he thrust the fact at her, was about to answer, and checked herself. ‘You are not sympathique in the very least. Why, that boy could hide for thirty years—without the girl. But the general was turning on him, the hint of emotion wiped from his lined features. Laughed at me, then. "Jack," said the other, sternly; "don't provoke me further, or I'll give you a thrashing. ’ He had abandoned the “sir”, Gerald noted, realising that the footman’s respect for him had dropped sharply.
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