’ Leaning down, she raised the hem of the petticoat of her habit to reveal a neat little pair of boots on her feet. “What’s that young lady’s name—girl in dark brown, stranger here?” Mr. ” “She does. She arrived about nine o’clock the next evening in a state of tremulous enthusiasm. You see, I’m selfish. ” He admonished. It is that, is it not?” “No,” he answered readily. "Won't you take these?" For a space he merely stared at her, perhaps wondering if she were real. You are not with the Kent militia, are you?’ ‘West Kent, yes. Winter came: rainy, damp, and savage.
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