Wood caught hold of Jack's leg, and dragged him off the bench. She was dressed in a little white frock, with a very long body, and very short sleeves, which looked (from a certain fullness about the hips,) as if it was intended to be worn with a hoop. “You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall,” he remarked. He sat before a desk littered all over with papers and official looking documents. Would she ever find it? Sighing, she opened the door to the next room, and drew back the drapes. That same adventurousness that had already buoyed her through crises that would have overwhelmed any normally feminine girl with shame and horror now became uppermost again. "It is too late. The fact is I was so glad to see you again that it never occurred to me that a little discretion might be advisable. "Here, take this and get the letter and open and read it.
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