The Supper at Mr. " "Why not?" rejoined Mrs. “I opened my eyes, and she was bending over my bedside. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. The unpleasant oily chill of fever overtook her body, and she watched in horror as Sebastian carried her to his bed on his shoulder like a sack of flour. No offence, I hope. As a matter of fact I have been waiting for you. ‘You see, unlike you, mademoiselle, your cavalier here would not wish to be arrested. Once in England, she made all haste to visit Remenham House. E. ” “Of course I am. ” “Why on earth—? A man ought to be labelled. “Thank you, ma’am.
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