"What's that you're taking to Sir Rowland Trenchard's?" "Only a box, Sir," answered Sheppard, emptying the glass. Death belongs to God, young man. The future? He dared not speculate upon that. ’ Gerald laughed. The Iron Bar 397 XVIII. I am no exception. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands. "Oh, nothing—nothing," returned Mrs. She saw marks in the dirt where he had been pacing. ’ The footman did not object, but it was plain he felt he was neglecting his duty, for he emitted an admonitory cough, causing the captain to pause in his way to the library across the hall. David left this afternoon. " "I have a question to propose to you," said Trenchard, "relating to—" and he hesitated.
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