But her temper almost flared again when the sergeant spoke. She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. It was an oldfashioned peasant blouse, white, square necked, and trimmed with lace. " "Traitor!" cried Sir Rowland—"damned—double-dyed traitor!" "Away with him," vociferated Jonathan to his myrmidons, who, having surrounded Trenchard, hurried him off to the coach before he could utter another word,—"first to Mr. “The visit seems to have made a most painful impression upon him. It is foolish, she murmured to herself, foolish.
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