Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. “By Jove!” he broke out, “one tries to take a serious, sober view. A granddaughter of mine!’ The idiocy of this notion stuck in his craw and he could think of nothing else for a moment. " "Zounds!" exclaimed Quilt, "did you kill him?" "Not quite," replied Terence, laughing; "but I brought him to his senses. ” Chapter XXVI ANNABEL IS WARNED “You!” David Courtlaw crossed the floor of the dingy little sitting-room with outstretched hands. The Iron Bar. She could accord her father with one grace: he was not in any manner a hypocrite.
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