Montague Hill. ‘You give me an excellent excuse to have in the Madeira,’ said his hostess, reaching for a silver hand bell and setting it pealing. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, assuming a fearful accent. It was Ennison, who loomed up through the shadows. She was trying by some wonderful, secret, and motionless gymnastics to restrain her tears. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. ” Courtlaw’s walking stick, which he had been handling, fell with a crash to the ground.
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