You may go back, Marthe. The light!—the light!" Astounded at his cries, Thames sprang towards him. " "A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,—with a yellow beard, and a face as sly as a fox's?" "Hem!" replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; "the description's not amiss. If she had once known him, if he were some former neighbour, it would be comprehensible. She would always be waiting upon this boy, he mused. “NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket. Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation methods and addresses.
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