"Let him remain," interposed Trenchard. "What ho!" he cried slapping Smith, who had fallen asleep with the brandybottle in his grasp, upon the shoulder. " The Wastrel tried to reach Ruth's lips. ‘That there governess didn’t like it, of course, me being the lodgekeeper’s girl, and Martha just a country wench like me. She sat herself upon the bed. Whence she came,—who she was,—and what she wanted,—were questions which naturally suggested themselves to Blueskin, and he was about to seek for some explanation, when his curiosity was checked by a gesture of silence from the lady. “I am sure you will marry Nigel sooner or later, and then all your work will be thrown away.
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