"I knew it. ” He beamed upon her. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. The wings stopped. It was hard to resist. She chastised herself for thinking of her husband and lord as being weak. “I am afraid,” she said, “that he must have a skeleton key to these rooms. ” She breathed an inner sigh of relief. Her knees were trembling, her whole frame was shaken with sobs. We were expecting rather to find a male antagonist. Borrow. Smith, now, being more than half-seas over, became very uproarious, and, claiming the attention of the table, volunteered the following DRINKING SONG. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps.
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