Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. Thought she was a nun at first. Do you indeed remember? The smell of decay and cheap methylated spirit!. ‘Don’t put me at the necessity of marrying the abominable little wretch. Were Captain Darrell to offer you his hand, would you accept it?" "Your impertinence deserves very different treatment, Sir," said Winifred; "but, to put an end to this annoyance, I will tell you—I would not. There he paused again, half turning his back and pretending to look for someone among the soldiers on the benches. Earles protested, seating himself before the desk, and dipping his pen in the ink.
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