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“For nothing, do you call it?” he declared. He was wrapped in a loose dressing-gown of light material, and stood near the corner where the women's dresses had just been thrown down, quite out of sight of all the party, except Mrs. Kneebone will excuse you. The uproar was tremendous—men yelling— dogs barking,—but above all was heard the stentorian voice of Jonathan, urging them on. Cocked hats and buckled swords spoke of rank. She knew, or guessed his mission too, for more than once their eyes met, and she laughed mockingly at him. Shari would know what to do, but Shari was out with her friend Lisa.
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