He turned round to keep Anna out by force if possible, but he was too late. For the present, he murmured his farewells, and turning, caught Hilary’s eye and walked away, crossing the ballroom to move into the less opulent, and less crowded, saloon next door where servants were dispensing refreshments. Anywhere! Moonlight and music—pleasing, you know, but quite unnecessary. Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE. Part 7 That was two days before Christmas Eve.
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