" Not a little perplexed by the mysterious object she had seen, Rachel left the room, and, shortly afterwards returned with the materials of a tolerably good supper;—to wit, a couple of cold fowls, a tongue, the best part of a sirloin of beef, a jar of pickles, and two small dishes of pastry. She crept behind the open door and pounced on him when he came out of the bathroom, knocking him onto the floor with a loud thud. All her protests seemed stifled before she could find words to utter them. He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw. I might forgive him that, for he obviously taught her a good deal that she has found useful. They did not care— servant or master, it meant nothing. He declined supper, but took wine. ‘And me, I am a lady. Well, I'd no idea," she continued, pursuing her ruminations as she left the room, "that people of quality laughed so. “I’m not going to kill you, John.
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