I spoke a thought aloud. As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her. “Father,” she cried, “I have to live!” He misunderstood her. In the corner of the room were two hockey-sticks and a tennis-racket, and upon the walls Ann Veronica, by means of autotypes, had indicated her proclivities in art. Aware that he should incur the thief-taker's bitterest animosity by what he had done, the watchman, whose wrath against Quilt Arnold had evaporated during the walk, thought it more prudent not to hazard a meeting with his master, till the storm had, in some measure, blown over.
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