“Well, I don’t feel like standing it. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. I’ll need you to go back to the barracks and fetch more men up to town. Good-bye, for the pressent—ha! ha!" And, laughing loudly at his own facetiousness, he quitted the Lodge. They were a dull grey, but the dark frizzed hair that framed her face was attractive. ” “DUSTING!” said Miss Miniver, in a sepulchral voice. In a little while he and she were talking quite easily and agreeably.
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