The little girl uttered no remonstrance; but, replacing the flowers in the basket, burst into tears, and withdrew. “I can’t conceive what you want. Wood turned to look at him. I'm sure she'll let me go, though. ‘Gerald, this is a nun’s habit. CHAPTER XVII. before them soldiers. " The answer to this request was a "smack" of a very different description, bestowed upon Sheppard's outstretched face by the little damsel, as she ran out of the room. " "Are you Mr. I was his wife. "Never, Ma'am!" echoed Mr.
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