He could not make good his hold. This smile was more harrowing even than her former rigid look. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. "My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. She visualized him as in a policeman’s uniform and quite impassive. “The next question, Miss Anna,” he said, “is how am I to help you? I am wholly at your disposal. Let's get one idea into our heads.
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