Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. The salt air was fresher than the stale air in the manor. She crept out of the shadows. It was a dismal and depressing sight to see a great city thus suddenly overthrown; and the carpenter was deeply moved by the spectacle. She was poor. “It is like old times,” she said, “to hear these home truths. “I’m not so sure. “I have had a trying evening and I need rest.
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