The less said, therefore, on this point the better; because, as nothing is to be gained by it, it would only be trouble thrown away. "The long and the short o' the matter's this then," returned Sharples with dignity, "the Markis begs your acceptance o' ten guineas to drink his health. "I am so excessively fond of snuff. I need scarcely ask whether you've executed your appointed task, my dear? You're never behindhand. You're a queer lad. Arrived at Paddington, he struck across Marylebone Fields,—for as yet the New Road was undreamed of,—and never moderated his speed until he reached the city. Then she cursed herself for his eyes went to the letter and came back to her face. The Storm VII.
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