" "Ay; but I do mind her," cried Jack upon whom his comrade's observation had produced the desired effect. But he was now too deeply moved to trace a certain unsatisfactoriness to its source in a mixture of metaphors. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. Perhaps I ate something spoiled for breakfast. Between herself and yonder evil mind she had the strongest buckler God could give—love. His spirits began to rise. Jack had well-nigh fallen too. “I believe you are quite right so far as regards the present, at any rate,” someone remarked, from the depths of an easy chair. Manning as they talked. “None, I thank you,” he answered. Detention was merry for the other detainees. “There were some Hampshire Pellissiers. .
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