The both of them puttering about the tidy two-story house, Lucy would serve them both steaming cups of tea in the front parlor. This request, however, was refused; and he was told that the only way in which he could entitle himself to his Majesty's clemency would be by discovering who had abetted him in his last escape; the strongest suspicions being entertained that he had not affected it alone. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. I sha’n’t care a rap if we can never marry.
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