As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her. Think! Had you not better hurry back before Sir John discovers? You are his wife right enough. The inn was a military haunt. ‘Thought you were going to break in here,’ he said, in an impatient whisper. There was a strip of old rose brocade in the making that set an ache in the girl's heart for the want of it. "Your servant, Sir Rowland," said the stranger, ducking his head, as he advanced. He would know her address to-morrow. Each time also we quarrel, and even if you are laughing very much, you become angry. “Agreed,” he said, “certainly,” and drew a checkbook toward him.
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