” “It’s an unrest—a longing—What’s that?” The waiter had intervened. “Will you come this way,” she said, “into the drawing-room? There is no one there just now. I had not seen the courtyard in many years and I was happy to dream of those times. I die happy—quite happy in beholding you. The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced. " "What right have you to suppose this, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, sternly. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. "What do you mean?" cried Winifred in alarm.
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