" "A miniature! Of whom?" "That I can't say," replied Jack, mysteriously. For a time Ann Veronica’s attention was diverted by her aunt’s interest in the salted almonds. “And aren’t there fees to pay at the Imperial College?” her aunt was saying—a disagreeable question. Spurling attended him as his nurse, and, under her care, he speedily revived. He would pull this young fellow back; but later he knew that he would have to fight the boy's lack of will to live. She held out her hand frankly. He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable. To stumble upon the trail through the agency of a bottle of whisky! Drank queer; so his bottle had rendered him conspicuous.
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