Whatever may happen to-morrow I shall be none the better for anticipating its miseries to-day. “She’s sensitive soul, far too sensitive to be married to an ass like Gianfrancesco. Joan told me it was hung somewhere in the house, only I couldn’t remember where after all this time. ‘How disappointing,’ mourned Gerald. He was standing by, rating her ladyship,—who can scarcely stir from the sofa,—while I was packing up her jewels in the case, and I observed that she tried to hide a small casket from him. The man looked as though he would have liked to deny it, but could not. Success to our enterprise!" "Success to our enterprise!" echoed the others, significantly. ‘You know perfectly well that she is the daughter of the Comtesse de St Erme.
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