‘Very well, Kimble. Wild will hang me. ” An awkward moment of silence followed. The young lady—if she had come in here at all—had vanished. ‘Exactly like my father. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. He delayed the blow till the fortunate conjuncture was past. Her wings were oddly weak, but for all that she could fly. “Indeed, you could have no more faithful friend, you could find no one more anxious to serve you. "I understand," she said. "The gentleman is a stranger to me, Poll," replied the woollen-draper, with increased embarrassment. We can be friends again. 175 “Before you tell me the whole story,” she emphasized the penultimate word, “just let me do something for you. I should think, Anna, that your own sense—er—of propriety would enable you to see this.
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