“I was watching you at Morningside Park, dear,” said Miss Miniver. Here he halted; and, looking upwards, read, at the foot of an immense sign-board, displaying a gaudily-painted angel with expanded pinions and an olive-branch, not the name he expected to find, but that of WILLIAM KNEEBONE, WOOLLENDRAPER. ’ He fitted the hat onto her head, and was aware as he did so of her eyes watching his face. I’m not Gerald, remember. There was a concerted gasp of shock from both the black-garbed lad and the coachman. My profession has hardened me. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. But his lips were honourlocked. ” “Oh, you mean Mr. Yet an indiscriminating, wrong-headed world gave such fellows all sorts of distinctions.
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