The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. "That would be certain destruction. I suppose I was a little idiotic—I don’t think we either of us mentioned the future, but it was arranged that I should go the next afternoon and have tea with her. Ramage—about the forty pounds. ' He muttered it continually. ” “I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our lot. Lucy sized up the girl. “I wonder what happened.
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