“Called myself Anna,” the girl repeated coolly. “Good-bye, John,” she said simply. Ann Veronica jumped up to get her the cardtable. The poor old imbecile! Why, this child was a firebrand, a wrecker, if ever he had seen one; and the worst kind because she was unconscious of her gifts. My father died a year ago, by the way. The lighting-up pierced the obscurity of the box, and Ramage stopped his urgent flow of words abruptly and sat back. He had not proceeded far when he was alarmed by the tramp of a horse, which seemed to be rapidly approaching, and he had scarcely time to leap the hedge and conceal himself behind a tree, when a tall man, enveloped in an ample cloak, with his hat pulled over his brows, rode by at full speed. The houses overhung in a frightful manner, and looked as if the next gust would precipitate them into the river. “I don’t have time for this. He wondered if these abnormal mental activities presaged illness. Faugh!” She took up the last morsel of roll, and held it delicately between her long slim fingers. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. “And how did you find us here?” “I called at Montague Street a few minutes after you had left.
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