"I can't help thinking of it, Sir," answered the widow. There were cakes and sandwiches—for Ennison a sort of Elysian feast, long to be remembered. If only he had known it, sympathy was almost entirely with him. "Vell," he growled, addressing Quilt, "you know who's here, I suppose?" "To be sure I do," replied Quilt; "my noble friend, the Marquis of Slaughterford. I beg that you will consider me your friend. ” Anna shook hands with Brendon—a young man also, but older and more selfpossessed than Sydney Courtlaw. The brilliant sunshine poured through the window, effecting an oblong block of mote-swimming light. But Jonathan was not to be deterred.
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