Drummond smoked his cigarette meditatively. The telegram reminded Ann Veronica that she had no place for interviews except her bed-sitting-room, and she sought her landlady and negotiated hastily for the use of the ground floor parlor, which very fortunately was vacant. To his relief, she nodded. “Nothing so base. I hate children. The hope that had been suddenly kindled in the youth's bosom was as suddenly extinguished. He had now reached the adjoining house, and, scaling the roof, approached another building, which seemed to be, at least, one story loftier than its neighbours. “Yes, mostly. Meantime, every preparation had been made outside for his departure. 1715.
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