Perhaps the sunken cheeks and the protruding cheekbones gave her this impression. “Well, you’ve seen the kitchen and the dining room, but did I show you the basement?” He asked. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. The youth produced a crumpled-up card from his waistcoat pocket. . ’ His brows rose. Anna found herself next Sydney Courtlaw, with his friend close at hand. —Sorry to quit your lord—worships, I mean,—I don't know what I mean," she added, a little confused, and dropping a profound curtsey to the disguised noblemen, each of whom replied by a bow, worthy, in her opinion, of a prince of the blood at the least,—"but I've a few necessary orders to give below. Neither Charvill nor his heir know anything of your presence in England.
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