At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. When she saw however that this man was a stranger, and obviously harmless, her expression changed as though by magic. ‘I’ve never found a woman who did not drive me into a frenzy of boredom. " "Gem'men o' the votch!" cried Sharples, as loudly as a wheezy cough would permit him, "my noble pris'ner—ough! ough;—the Markis o' Slaughterford ——" Further speech was cut short by a volley of execrations from the angry guardians of the night. "It's runnin' a great risk. ‘Comment? What do you wish?’ ‘What the devil do you think you’re up to now, I’d like to know?’ Her eyes flashed. .
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