She came in while he was still in the throes, conviction battling with commonsense, his own apprehension. ’ ‘How do you know?’ Lucilla repeated, almost as sceptical as her intended spouse. McClintock was in a gay mood at dinner that night; but he did not see fit to give these children the true reason. At the thought of the major, her tears redoubled and she was obliged to rip off a piece from the remnants of her already maltreated underpetticoats with which to blow her nose and soak the damp from her cheeks. Somebody may be on the watch—perhaps, that old ginger-hackled Jew.
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