And now, my love," she added, with a relenting look, "I'm content to make up our quarrel. ” “Coffee! Bah!” The newcomer picked her way across the floor with daintily uplifted skirts, and subsided into a deck chair of stretched canvas. Ann Veronica realized that she was alone with the world. A brief calm succeeded. Kneebone, having been alarmed by something in the widow's look before her feelings found vent in the manner above described, thrust his hand instinctively into his coat in search of his pocket-book,—about the security of which, as it contained several letters and documents implicating himself and others in the Jacobite plot, he was, not unnaturally, solicitous,—and finding it gone, he felt certain he had been robbed. "But vere'll be the use o' vinnin'? you von't live to pay me. I shall still believe in you. . The tropical dawn is swift. Kneebone on her way to the door, "how could you bring such creatures with you, especially on an occasion like this, when we haven't met for a fortnight!" "Couldn't help it, my life," returned the gentleman addressed, in the same tone; "but you little know who those individuals are.
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