As soon as dinner was over she went into the kitchen and devoted herself to compiling a tray—not a tray merely of halfcooled dinner things, but a specially prepared “nice” tray, suitable for tempting any one. “I wonder why I am always hungry nowadays. This is grace I am saying! Oh! my dear! all the joy and weeping of life are mixed in me now and all the gratitude. One don't often get sich a vindfal as the Markis——" "Or such a customer as Mr. ” “She is one of them,” Ennison said. It’s a mismatch. ” “You and I and Brendon get on all right, don’t we?” Sydney objected. She meditated long and carefully upon her letter to her father before she wrote it, and gravely and deliberately again before she despatched it. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. I felt—I felt living in a masked world. She just sat and told me that was her arrangement. "Not so, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan; "you are my prisoner.
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