"Lady Trafford would not have thus condemned me!" cried Thames. It isn't for their sakes, it's for your own. She propped a pillow against his padded headboard and sat herself into a stiff upright position, legs expertly crossed. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. I have squeezed three kids into it afore now. Then for a time she forgot the Fadden affair altogether. Adventure rules, and morality—looks up the trains in the Bradshaw.
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