"Dying, Sir Rowland. 5. The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end. Amongst them was a revolver. He was scarcely concealed when he heard the horsemen, who perceived they had overshot their mark, ride back. This obstacle removed, he thought he might now make the attempt. It was warm, shielding, comforting, and what was more, full of understanding. Imagine her, putting herself to all this delay and inconvenience for a young wastrel she did not know and who, the moment he got on his feet, would doubtless pass out of her life without so much as Thank you! And it was ten to one that she would not comprehend the ingratitude. “I really had not thought about it at all,” Anna answered smiling. ’” “Yes?” “I think—yes, I went on in a pleasing blend of the casual and sotto voce, ‘The fact of it is, sir, I happen to be your son-in-law, Capes.
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