“I’ll tell them how much you enjoyed dinner, it would give me great pleasure to tell them that. Kneebone, having been alarmed by something in the widow's look before her feelings found vent in the manner above described, thrust his hand instinctively into his coat in search of his pocket-book,—about the security of which, as it contained several letters and documents implicating himself and others in the Jacobite plot, he was, not unnaturally, solicitous,—and finding it gone, he felt certain he had been robbed. Silence! Then Anna clutched her companion’s arm. It might be that the boy had taken one drink too many, or someone had given him knock-out drops. She remembered abruptly that she was really living upon his money. There was once a philanthropist who dressed with shameful shabbiness and carried pearls in his pocket. As soon as dinner was over she went into the kitchen and devoted herself to compiling a tray—not a tray merely of halfcooled dinner things, but a specially prepared “nice” tray, suitable for tempting any one. I thank God for His sunlight on your face. Not a breath was drawn.
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