"At length I am my own master," murmured the knight, as his foot touched the strand. By-the-bye,” he added, in a suddenly altered tone, “I hope, I trust—that you have not entered into any arrangements with any one here?” “I—oh no!” Anna said, a little faintly. Having accomplished his intent, Gerald let the lad go and had himself driven back to Stratton Street. The note-passer lagged behind with her. All of us were fussy, colicky babies from what she tells me. “Sure. “Indeed, I must implore you to return. The Night-Cellar XVIII.
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