We've got to get him to care. ‘You give me an excellent excuse to have in the Madeira,’ said his hostess, reaching for a silver hand bell and setting it pealing. "I'm glad to hear it, that's all," he added, taking out his snuff-box, his never-failing resource in such emergencies. For a few minutes, she appeared scarcely sensible of his presence. She so wanted to keep her memory of him fresh, so wanted to memorize his kisses and to conjure his embrace someday when he was mere dust in the ground. "'Sdeath! why am I not obeyed?" exclaimed the knight, angrily. But the five per cent. Anna looked at her, startled. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. She had unaccountable gleams of sympathy with and liking for him. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. “I’ve got it. The two aunts of these young ladies lived for many years in the dower house upon my estate in Hampshire. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. ” He smiled bitterly as he handed her from the cab.
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