Anna and her escort exchanged glances. “I might return the compliment, Courtlaw,” he answered, “by asking why the devil you come lurching on to the pavement like a drunken man. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. "I suspect our friend has thought better of it, and won't come," he remarked. There was no mistaking his intentions this time. She has not been accused of any crime. "Ay, what's the matter, boy!" reiterated Jackson sternly. Stanley determined to improve the occasion. He was at length rescued from his assailants,— rescued to perish, seven months afterwards, with every ignominy, at the very gibbet to which he had brought his victim. “Odd little room,” said Ann Veronica, dimly apprehending that obtrusive sofa. .
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