What of that?" "Vot 'o that!" echoed Sharples, peevishly: "Everythin'. She never questioned the motives of the characters; she had neither the ability nor the conceit for that; but she could and often did correct his lapses in colour. Her whole face stiffened with suppressed anger. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. Light the lantern. She was flushed, and her eyes were bright and angry; her breath came sobbing, and her hair was all abroad in wandering strands of black. The idea that he held in his arms the girl whom he had once so passionately loved, and for whom he still retained an ardent but hopeless attachment, almost overcame him. Whatever may happen to-morrow I shall be none the better for anticipating its miseries to-day. I’m glad I did. Half a day had turned the corner of the hours; and Ah Cum admitted that this girl puzzled him. He blushed, too, spiritually, as it were. ” He seemed bored. " "Did I ask for it?" "Yes. ” She was in the bedroom by eleven.
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