‘But for how long?’ Lady Bicknacre asked apprehensively. “Don’t we all rather humbug about the coarseness? All we women, I mean,” said she. She received into her slack grasp the pistol and dagger, only half aware of taking them. It was an odd room, used principally for the reception of guests and visiting dignitaries, packed from end to end with ill-assorted sofas and padded chairs. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. ‘And now, monsieur le major—’ ‘I will see you to the door,’ Gerald said, looking with interest at the building that his observant groom had told him housed a small collection of nuns. " "It is not Jack's voice," rejoined Mrs. .
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