May I do so to-day?” “It’s your gate,” she said, amiably; “you got it first. ‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald. Men in this part of the world drink to forget the things they have lost. Wait a second. He would have to sit down here in Canton and wait, perhaps for weeks. ‘I think you’ve gone stark, staring crazy. ‘Parbleu,’ she uttered indignantly. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance.
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