. ’ ‘Lord, man, it’s only a scratch!’ Suddenly Gerald snapped his fingers. Perhaps, after all, the others were right. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. You want industry—you want steadiness. "Intruding!" echoed Mrs. ‘So now we come to it. And so I'll tell you what I did —" And she burst into a laugh that froze Jack's blood in his veins. I begin to understand Jane Austen and chintz covers and decency and refinement and all the rest of it. " "Arm yourself with that ruffian's weapons," replied Jack, "and let us search for her.
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