Gerald raised a questioning eyebrow. It was your sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t it?” Anna nodded. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent. “Are you free tomorrow? Should I call?” He asked. ” Anna drummed impatiently with her fingers against the arm of her chair. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness.
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