" "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples. Buried under various ancestral sixteenths, smothered under modern thought, liberty of action and bewildering variety of flesh-pots, it was still alive to the extent that it needed only his present state to resuscitate it in all its peculiar force. ’ ‘Do you tell me you think you can outwit Gerald? I wish I may see it. We aren’t afraid; we don’t bother. Then he did give way a bit. Stanley took the letter and stood with it in his hand thoughtfully for a time.
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